


loverman

by honeyyhop



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft diaries - Fandom, aphmau - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Homosexuality, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Pain, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Rivalry, gays stay winning, m/m - Freeform, mlm, they literally hate each other, they try to kill each other and I call it romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 113,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26543263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyyhop/pseuds/honeyyhop
Summary: "I've shattered now, I'm spilling out..."Laurance is dragged from the Nether by his dying companion, blind and broken, and everything changes. The masked and mysterious Head Guard of Phoenix Drop wants to kill him. His best friend is confronted by the past - and dark forces wait in the shadows, stalking his every move.Nothing will ever be the same.
Relationships: Aphmau/Katelyn, Dante/Kawaii~Chan (Minecraft Diaries), Garroth Ro'Meave & Laurance Zvahl
Comments: 68
Kudos: 112





	1. episode one

Breathing. 

The heart, shuddering to a close. The transformation was almost complete - the moon, almost in full. 

Pausing. 

Choking. 

His throat squeezing, chest heaving for air. The atmosphere was thick and sour, suffocating his body, curling around him like a vine. His fingers twitched ever so slightly. He reached blindly into the darkness, tinged with dapples of crimson and gold in the darkness, black particles just beyond his reach, taunting him.

They knew that he was close. Soon, the names of those that he had once loved would be nothing but scrawls in his mind. He would never be able to tell friend from foe. 

“A….Aph…” 

  
Yet some plea still remained within him. Something, buried deep inside of him even as plates of armour closed over his chest, replacing iron with netherite, wanted to remember her.

“Aph…”

_Who are you?_

_We’ve been expecting you._

He recognised the shapes, blurry as they were. The older boy with half of his hair shaved off, and eyes like sizzling coals, haunted his memories - but the longer he attempted to carve an image of his face, it vanished like smoke. 

“A…” 

“Any day now,” came the voice, high and cruel. 

Seasons passing around him - and yet it all seemed like a fleeting moment of pain. Another lingering ache in his heart as it slowed into nothing.

_The ragged boat shot past the docks, slapped by the waves. Sea spray hit his boots. The weather had been awful as of late; Laurance tilted his chin to the grey sky, thick with fluffy dark clouds announcing approaching rain. He let a storm wind tussle his ginger braid for a brief moment, and then turned his attention to the rowboat gliding along the mountain side. He caught a glimpse of a dark shape waving their arms, trying to navigate back to the docks._

_He released a long sigh._

_So it was to be_ **_this_ ** _kind of day._

_He jogged lazily past the docks, weaving through the long grass and coming to rest easily against the cliffside. The figure leaned over the side of the boat, hitting it in frustration - Laurance caught a glimpse of thick, curly hair bobbing as they noticed him._

_“Toss me the rope,” he called, holding out his hand. “I’ll pull ya in!”_

_The stranger hesitated, then threw a rope. He wound it around his wrist and began to pull, wading through the grass to tie their boat to the docks. They swayed where they sat, slumped over in relief._

_Through a gap in the clouds, a slimmer of light hit their cheeks as they peered up at him._

_A woman blinked innocently up at him, brown eyes glittering with exhaustion, dark skin gleaming with sweat. Her curls were askew. Her smile seemed… well, he knew a half-assed smile when he saw one. Unease burned and coiled within her. Despite the naivety echoing within her gaze, his guard senses were roaring in protest as he reached a hand down to her. She clasped it in her palms and allowed him to lift her onto the docks. He bowed, but could not say a word._

_Something made his throat squeeze. Where was his friendly banter? His crooked smile? Where was his flawless, effortless talent to make a girl swoon?_

**_Get a hold of yourself._ **

**_What’s wrong with you?_ **

_For a moment, the threat of a civil war within Meteli and the stranger’s arrival seemed to choke him. Then he shook out his braid and managed a grin._

_“Milady… forgive me. You took my breath away.”_

**_Stop it._ **

_He cursed himself, seething at his own immaturity. But ever since Joh's death, something had been buried deep inside of him. Often, he felt like a ghost, watching his own body maneuver from above, cursing his own mistakes. Wondering, wishing…_

**_What if I had turned around sooner?_ **

_The deed was done. The arrow was through his lord’s heart. And Laurance was no longer the man or guard he once had been. He would spend his entire life wondering if he could have changed things for the better._

_The woman was staring. “Excuse me?”_

_Shit. He had clearly dug himself a grave, and he was trapped under the dirt._

_“I… I… I- uh, you - you are a beautiful maiden. Like a pearl that has fallen from the Lost City of Atlantis - y’know, rare and unheard… of…”_

_Her lips curled, nothing of malicious intent, but pure judgement and unease._

_“I-”_

_“The flattery is… well…”_

_She seemed suddenly unsure of herself, cheeks flushed, and that at least regained his confidence, seeing her startled by his own foolishness. She would only have to run into any citizen of Meteli to discover his reputation and never speak to him again._

_He hadn’t been lying - she_ **_was_ ** _beautiful._

_That didn’t make it right._

**_Stop it right now. Idiot. You dumbass, what would Cadenza say if she were here?_ **

_That was a whole other problem that Laurance was refusing to acknowledge at present._

_“What was I saying?” he blubbered, snapping back into reality._

_“I’m a pearl,” she said dryly._

_“You’re a pearl!” He fumbled blindly for more to say. “You’re stunning, milady - forgive me for being forward with you. I - my manners! Right. Yes. I am Laurance, head guard of Meteli. And you…?”_

_She hesitated briefly, taking in the information. Her eyes seemed invasive as she took him in, his old, creaking armour, his sword, his ginger hair, bright and obnoxious. She was searching for something - but what? She wouldn’t find what she was looking for within him._

_“Aphmau,” she said finally, and he bowed deeply._

**_Aphmau._ **

He hadn’t known it at the time. But he would cling to her name through Hell and back.


	2. episode two

He cradled the child in his arms. 

Every breath that Levin took reminded him of what he had to lose. And what Zane had to gain, if he ever realised that it was his brother hidden beneath the mask. 

Levin curled against his armour, yawning, tiny hands grasping over his shoulder weakly. 

“Garroth!” 

Aphmau burst through the door, hair still wild from sleep and eyes slumped, already blindly reaching for Levin. 

“Thank Irene, I - I thought - he - you let me sleep in!” She turned, half-wild, to Garroth accusingly. “I told you not to do that.” 

“Don’t be silly,” he said, trying to remain calm under her burning eyes. “You need your rest. After last night, you deserve it.” 

He handed her Levin, and he almost felt as if he was violating some kind of intimate maternal moment as she cradled him close to her chest and kissed his forehead, hands holding his back tenderly. Garroth took a step back, cheeks flushed. 

“Zoey is downstairs with Doc,” he said awkwardly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

The light in her eyes died and she turned to him, helplessly, pleadingly. She sagged from an unknown weight upon her shoulders. “Garroth - it - it was him - it was  _ him.”  _

When he hesitated, she ploughed on relentlessly, eyes wet. “It was him! Laurance was there! It was my… my…” 

_ Your… what?  _

_ What claim does  _ **_Laurance_ ** _ have over you?  _

He bit back a retort on how he found Laurance unbearable in the first place, and bowed his head. 

“I believe you.” 

“You do!?” 

She let one hand grip at his armour desperately, searching for the truth. She knew Garroth, and trusted his ultimate judgement. The thought made him relax. 

“I believe you, of course, Aphmau. I don’t doubt you for a second. But consider: how could Laurance get here from the Nether? Why would he act so strangely? And Levin…” 

He closed his eyes, mulling over it for a moment. “Strange magick must be at work here.” 

“Thank Irene that Levin is okay,” she breathed. “Did you talk to Doc?”

“I did.” 

His gaze traveled from the crest of Phoenix Drop, where her cottage was overgrown with wildflowers, to the town itself, sweeping over the valley. He eyed the long grass and thick trees, and houses still crumbled from various attacks over the past few weeks. He hadn’t dared to admit it, but they were struggling.

From Aphmau’s glistening dark eyes, he guessed that she was thinking the same thing. As Lord, her responsibility was just as heavy as his, perhaps even more so, and her life thread had been woven and tangled with the town. 

And with Garroth. 

He had come to appreciate her passion, her emotions. He admired her intense bravery and resilience in the face of doom. It motivated him to be a better guard - and to dedicate his life to Phoenix Drop just as she had. 

She was staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“Levin needs a place just for him, to be able to get fresh air where you can watch him. Doc thinks that this would be beneficial. Making him comfortable…” 

Her eyes traced a butterfly carving a path across the sky. “That’s a good idea.” 

Garroth wandered to the small clearing along the side of the hill, curling around her cottage, resting his gloved hands on a small tree. “A playground, perhaps…” 

Aphmau settled beside him. 

“That sounds nice,” she murmured, seeming choked with emotion. She seemed to be searching him - perhaps looking for some clue in his guarded face, his helmet hiding any expression. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing, it’s just… I…” 

She wasn’t the best at guarding her own feelings - Garroth could read her easily - perhaps too easily. “You want to go back for him.”

“No! It’s not… I mean…” Her lip wobbled. “Yes. How could I live with myself, knowing that I left him behind? Laurance… oh, Laurance, I’m sorry! Garroth, I have to go back for him!” 

His heart burned with unease. The fury burning in her eyes almost made him certain that she had no choice but to go after him, but… 

“Aphmau, you can’t. You know what threats await you there. I don’t see how you can help him now - Irene watches over him.” 

“I’ll find a way!” 

“Aphmau…” 

“Garroth, please… please.” 

Something in her eyes broke him. But how could he live with himself if he allowed his Lord to run after a male from another village so recklessly? She would be so easily destroyed. She could die. She could suffer the same fate as Laurance. How could he bear the guilt? The shame?

“I cannot allow it, milady. Your talents will be better used here.” 

“I have to save him!” 

“Not you. But I will do everything in my power to see what we can do. Is the portal still active?” 

Aphmau’s brows crinkled in concern. “I don’t know... I - Garroth… you’ll help me. Right?” 

“My first concern will always be your safety.” 

“But you will?” 

“I…” 

  
She peered up at him, trembling in desperation. He hadn’t realised how deeply she cared for the Meteli guard. Half of him wanted to forget Laurance. Just another threat to his Lord. But her eyes….his resolve crumbled. 

“I will, as long as I can secure your health as we do it.” 

“We can work to save him together.” The sun hit her cheek as she grinned, sagging with relief. “But time is of the essence. Who knows what they’re doing to him in that foul fortress…” 

Garroth’s mind begged.  _ Leave him behind. Leave him.  _

_ Laurance is nothing but a threat. A rival.  _

_ An enemy.  _

But he would hate to see Aphmau unhappy, forever mourning her lost friend. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Laurance was breathing. 

Slowly, achingly. Every intake, every shudder, hurt. A dull pain spread into his spine, his chest. But he was breathing. 

The heavy, faltering beating of wings matched his heartbeat. The world was curled around him, swirling up and down. His fingers brushed against thick scales. But black was leeching in at him, still tinged with crimson. 

“Un…” 

What was real? What was fake? 

It felt real.

The Hallucinations in the Nether had felt real, too. He had been taken back to an overcast day, one that he remembered so vividly, but corruption seeped through the cracks. He didn’t know himself. 

Touching his face, feeling his braid - he felt… the same. 

Had it all been a dream? Was Cadenza still missing? Had Castor ever been captured in the first place?

He was in a world that was good. Laurance was happy -what a thought! He had no desire to compensate for his insecurities with arrogance and flirtation. He had no need for petty jealousy. Joh was alive. He had just left dinner with Cadenza, and the sky was dark with a brewing storm. 

_ The wind sang of adventure and freedom, and Laurance lifted his chin to it.  _

_ On the beach, with the waves nibbling at his bare feet, he was himself. His friend, Aphmau, seemed to effortlessly understand his soul. She sat beside him with her hair loose, tangled by the wind, mouth agape as if tasting the air.  _

_ “We don’t get storms like this in Phoenix Drop,” she confided, seeming content. Laurance was content, too. He had abandoned his armour for the day, but he did not feel illegal sitting in a white shirt and shorts. Aphmau had abandoned her armour, and her responsibilities, and so he did the same, at least for a night.  _

_ “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, reaching a hand to cup the stars as if she could steal them away. _

_ Another Laurance would have instantly brushed her shoulder with a smirk and replied,  _ **_so are you._ **

_ But he did not.  _

_ Because in this reality, he was no such man. _

_ He smiled breathlessly. “Meteli is blessed to have such a plentiful season. I am grateful for it.”  _

_ “You know…”  _

_ Aphmau turned towards him.  _

_ “I wish you could be in Phoenix Drop, with me. You’d get along so well with Garroth. We could do this as much as we pleased. Everything would be perfect… you and me, we’re supposed to be together.” _

_ She didn’t have to explain herself. They bore no romantic feelings for one another; Laurance understood effortlessly. They were platonic soulmates, tied to each other by some mysterious thread. In this life, he was so sure that their relationship was special. Being alongside Aphmau seemed as if Irene herself had arranged their meeting. He blushed, slightly, pleased by the offer. _

_ “I’d love to, really. I’m far too tempted to abandon my post and run away to Phoenix Drop, but… Cadenza and Joh. I wouldn’t want to leave them alone.”  _

_ “I understand. Sometimes, we can’t be selfish for the good of our people…”  _

_ Something in Laurance yowled for him to be selfish, but he swallowed it.  _

_ “But if things change…”  _

_ “You’d come?”  _

_ “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Think of all of the grand adventures we’d have!”  _

_ Her laugh was light and twinkling. “We make a good pair, you and I.”  _

_ He laid back on the sand and stared at the stars. After a moment of hesitation, Aphmau crashed on top of him, laughing maniacally.  _

_ “What’s your issue?” he gasped, winded, shoving at her playfully.  _

_ The world was grey, and the wind bitter.  _

_ This was not the life he fantasized. _

_ Aphmau straddled him, cupping a long arrow in her hands, poised to strike.  _

_ “I’ll kill you like you killed him,” she sneered, and the voice was not her own but Sasha’s, bitter with hatred.  _

_ “Please! Pl - Please, please! I -”  _

_ “Begging doesn't save anyone.”  _

_ She stabbed the arrow into his heart. He was watching from out of his body. The mangled form on the beach was Joh’s. Then Aphmau. Then Sasha.  _

_ “Irene, please, save me! Please!”  _

_ It felt so real. He was dying. His heartbeat slowed.  _

“That was an interesting one! Look at him thrashing!” 

It was Sasha’s voice. But how could that be? 

Not real, not real, not real.

Ungrth was carrying him - but that wasn’t real, either. Nothing was real. Just another fantasy, hallucination, ready to betray him. He would never escape this Hell. 

“Just fucking stop!” 

But they did not. 


	3. episode three

She danced with the knowledge that not a soul was watching her, and from her shut eyes, she savoured the feeling. The song rippling across the clearing was slow and comforting, like a crackling fire; Donna and Logan held each other. 

Aphmau held no one, gripping the folds of her own lilac dress in one fist, and swirling slowly around to one side of the plaza. Fairy lights glittered playfully over her head as she danced with herself, seeming to enjoy the solitude. Her nose and cheeks were bright and shining with blush, lashes full. 

Garroth was struck, not by her beauty - although she was a beautiful girl - but by her serenity. Usually, he could read her easily, but tonight she seemed so peaceful that he wouldn’t be able to sense any turbulence in her mind. She seemed at ease for the first time since Laurance had been missing. Garroth understood that she cared for him - but to what extent? 

The thought of her loyalties being to _him_ made his blood boil. 

Once, she opened her eyes to squint around, as if remembering herself and the responsibility to care for those around her, and Garroth had to shrink back behind a house to avoid being spotted. 

His eyes wandered, inevitably, from Aphmau to Zane. 

His brother. 

Here for him.

Irene, and fate itself, worked in cruel ways, didn’t it? Damning him so soon after he had found his place in the world, fighting alongside someone like Aphmau - wasn’t that hurtful? 

His mind reeled with all of the ways through which Zane could torture his people, the ones he loved. Aphmau, her stomach peeled open by a knife. Levin, his tiny body frail between his brother’s sharp hands. A fire tearing its way into the homes of Phoenix Drop - the smoke and the screams raised into the night. So much cruelty. And Zane would smile through it all, with the knowledge that he would hold power over them all. 

One step, and it would be over. 

Garroth had always been selfless - that was the way of any respectable guard. But couldn’t he be selfish, just this once? Didn’t he deserve that much?

Imagine her smile! 

The broad, open joy if he emerged with his helmet off would be unrivaled.

  
  


_Alone in the mines. Always alone._

_His shoulder was bleeding, but he did nothing to care for it. His helmet was mangled on the floor, utterly broken. How could he bear to emerge to Phoenix Drop, as such a disgrace? He had raised Zenix. It was his brother that had betrayed him. And Garroth had allowed him into his life, only for him to… to…_

_Zane would find him, inevitably._

_Everything would always crumble as long as he was around._

_“Garroth?”_

_Instantly, his hands were over his eyes, trying to protect his identity from her._

_“Go away,” he snarled, hunched over, then instantly regretted his foul tone. He felt her hand land on his shoulder, then recoil. Aphmau... She was back? Why was she here, tending to him?_

_“You’re hurt! Garroth, what…” she faltered, perhaps realising that his helmet was on the floor. “I…”_

_“Leave, Aphmau.”_

**_Please don’t leave me._ **

_She stood, wringing her hands, listening._

_“Please,” he said, softening slightly. “Don’t look at me. I’m a disgrace to your village. Zenix… he… he… I couldn’t… I’m sorry.”_

_“Garroth. I know about Zenix.”_

_Thank Irene. He didn’t think he would know how to explain it. Or his grief. She crossed the cavern to fetch a rag, and then gently began to wipe away the crusted blood on his shoulders._

_He glanced over his shoulder. She paused, and pressed her cold palm to his cheek. The gesture was purely maternal, and comforting, and he felt as if he was home once again._

**_Who am I? I feel like I'm out of my body._ **

**_Get a hold of yourself, Garroth._ **

_He swallowed, and straightened. “Tell me about your trip, Aphmau. Did you find Levin’s mother?”_

_“It’s… a long story.”_

_“Indulge me.”_

  
  
  


He had long since restored his self-control. 

Zane might not even do anything. Perhaps he would be cautious. Perhaps he would take Garroth away - would he go willingly? 

Would it be worth it, just to see her smile? 

Garroth swallowed, and straightened his tie. He was vulnerable without his armour

It was now or never. 

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be young again! Zane was not always this way, he would’ve liked to believe - and neither was Garroth himself. So much had changed. So much had gone wrong. 

If his path was to be this way, then so be it. 

He stepped out from the shadow, and the glare of the fairy lights announced his arrival. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze, watching him move. He was gripping his tuxedo so hard that his knuckles were purple, his cheeks stained red. His eyes - such a soft blue, watered and shining with newfound fear. So many people. 

Eyes, eyes, all over the place, all on him. He could already hear the bitter whispers, the judgement.

_Fucking loser._

_Loner._

_I can’t trust him._

_He’s just like Zenix._

_Failure._

_Outcast._

But he thought that he would pay to capture the startled, slacked expression caught on Zane’s face. His own sadistic brother, surprised!

Utter disbelief slowly curled into feline satisfaction.

Aphmau crashed into him, the lights making her dark skin glow. “Garroth! I - I - you came!” 

All anxieties emptied from his mind when she tugged him into a hug, and she gripped him as if she trusted him with her life. Her most loyal guard. Her most beloved friend. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“Aphmau, I… would you like to dance with me?” 

It was perhaps one of the most impulsive things he had ever said. Somehow, it felt as if the ghost of the man in the mines had possessed his body. He was no longer that Garroth. He was worse, far worse, but he still had Aphmau. Thank Irene for the small blessings. 

“Of course I would!” 

Zoey was in control of the music, and the next track was a slow, sombre dance that had Donna steering Logan hastily into the centre to hold him close. The pale girl winked at Garroth as he spun Aphmau in another direction, one hand on her shoulder and one on her hip. He couldn’t decipher her knowing look. He blushed. 

_What the Irene is_ **_that_ ** _about?_

Dancing with Aphmau, he felt as if he needn’t worry about it, or anything. As if some kind of power was leeching his emotions away and replacing them with a gentle calm. Even Zane seemed less of a threat. 

Garroth smiled. The freckles on his nose crinkled in delight. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Zane’s smile said everything that Garroth needed to know. 

Aphmau was silent, her eyebrows scrunched together. She was deep in thought, and her eyes were already blazing. Ready to attack - but who? 

Garroth, for lying to her?

Zane, for being… Zane? 

With a dramatic bow and a twirl of his hand, Zane was strutting away, his chin held high with the confidence of a man who was getting what he wanted. 

It was all out in the open. They were brothers. Zane and Garroth, reunited, their relationship blazing under Aphmau’s gaze. 

Garroth sat heavily down onto the docks, letting his shoes brush the surface of the water. After a moment, Aphmau lowered herself beside him. 

“That’s why you didn’t want to take off your helmet… you’ve been hiding. Garroth, when you told me it was due to family, I didn’t… I never thought…” 

“That someone like **him** could share my blood?” 

“For the record, you’re clearly the better looking brother.” 

He could only manage a short chuckle. He couldn’t seem to unfasten the ache from his chest. “ _Clearly_.” 

“I… what’s going to happen now? Are you going to… tell me what he meant? About you…”

Garroth lifted his head miserably. “I’m a coward, Aphmau. I’ve been hiding from the truth all of this time, and I’m sorry for it. You’re a lord - you deserve to know how my situation is going to damage how you do your job. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, but… not…” 

“Not now?” 

“I can’t. Not yet. I don’t think I’m ready to face him.” 

She folded her hands in her lap and nodded. “I think I understand.” 

She would never understand, but her sturdy support was better than nothing at all. Tentatively, she rested her head on his shoulder, sending sparks down his spine, and he leant against her.

“I’m with you, Garroth.” 

That was all he needed. 


	4. episode four

Breathing.

Grass, brushing his fingertips. 

His armour still burned his skin.

He could smell smoke, and that alone assured him that it was still simply an illusion. 

_Not real, not real, not…_

“Garroth?” 

That voice… 

No. Not possible. Aphmau couldn’t be there, unless… 

No. Not his Aphmau, his best friend, in the Nether. In the fortress, where life withered and died. Not her killing herself to rescue him - it couldn’t be true. He forced out a cry. 

“Aph- I - get out of here!” 

“Laurance!”

“Run! Get out! Before they - he - they’ll find you!” 

His voice was splintering and cracking. The blackness surrounded him pulsed with new shadows coming into view. Warm hands fumbled over him, uncertain of their path. 

“Aphmau, _go!”_

“Laurance, you’re here, you’re here, in Phoenix Drop, stop!” 

He couldn’t stop. Just another illusion. Another hallucination to lure him into thinking that he was safe and loved. 

“Get out of here!” 

His armour was smoking, head fizzing with pain - the black around his vision clashed with brightness. Sunlight? Sky? 

He fumbled for his friend’s voice.

_Not… real…?_

Pulsing. 

“Laurance, Laurance, stay with me, okay? You’re okay. You’re okay.” 

Footsteps crunched close by. A gruff male voice hovered over the pain. “That wyvern…” 

_Wyvern?_

_Ungrth?_

_Ungrth - I - no…_

Not his companion. Not here. 

He fought against the static around him, then sagged into it. 

Then, quietly, the last thing he heard, “Irene, let him be okay.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The great wyvern had been tainted by black. His body rippled with shadows, the tip of his tail and his mighty muzzle already crumbling into ash - the aftermath of the Nether still lingering over him. 

“Ungrth, hold on, I’ll get help! Doc - Zoey - Kawaii-chan - someone can fix you! We’ll fix you! Hold on -” 

“It’s too late...” 

Even his words seemed to dissolve into the empty air. Garroth looked, helplessly, no doubt seeing his Raven reflected in the large wyvern, golden scales coated in darkness. 

“I saved him…”

“You did,” Aphmau breathed. “It’s Laurance, he’s here - but you - how -” 

A shaky rumble in the beast’s chest. “Laurance is the only human who I have ever… loved like my own. He took me in when I was abandoned by my own…” 

If Garroth had been able to understand, perhaps he would have been caught off-guard by that, perhaps even shamed by Raven’s actions. But he simply watched. There was no telling what emotions flickered under his mask. Aphmau already missed his face, a sturdy, comforting presence.

“I had to repay him for his kindness… through the only way I know how to… by transcending the realm barriers and using my… my power to free him from his possession. But... but…” 

His chest began to crumble. Aphmau lunged forward, as if she could seal his wounds with her hands, piece him back together. She cradled the wyvern close to her chest.

“Because I transcended the realm… I… I disturbed the space between. I became this. _Corrupted_. This state… it hurts...” 

“Ungrth…” 

“I could feel Laurance - his soul… it wanted out of that place. I could hear him calling to me.” 

“Ungrth, please, don’t die. We’ll fix it, we’ll get you better!” 

His snout broke away into the wind, leaving only his voice as a whisper on the lingering breeze.

“Die? No… no, wyverns do not die - not through your mortal terms. We slumber for many eons until we are reborn again. Aphmau…” 

_“I’m here.”_

“Take care of Laurance for me… _please._ Something _powerful_ is preventing him from turning. With my added spirit, he may not… he’ll be less likely to complete his transformation into a Shadow Knight. Take care of him… Do you promise? To take care… of… of...” 

The wind carried the ashes of the dragon, and his final song curled over them.

_“Thank you…”_

“Ungrth! Ungrth, no - Ungrth! Irene! Do something, Irene! You can’t let him die like - like this!” 

A bitter hush fell over the clearing. Irene would do nothing for him.

Her empty hands curled into fists. The wyvern was gone. 

Laurance was still sprawled in the grass, motionless. Innocent to the loss of his beloved companion and friend - perhaps that was Irene’s mercy for him. Garroth poked him with his boot. 

“Ungrth sacrificed himself for Laurance. He loved his friend that much that he… he…” Aphmau swallowed, shuddering, no doubt remembering the wyvern that had been curled over her lap a second ago.

“If we don’t get Laurance to a safe place, it may be for nothing. We know nothing about his condition, the Nether… Brian, get over here!” 

The young boy scampered over from his post at the edge of the woods, curly hair bobbing. “Yes, sir?” 

“Help me carry this young man, and not a word of this to anyone. You can keep a secret, boy?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Aphmau, where…?” 

After a heartbeat of hesitation, Aphmau murmured, “my basement.”

“Very well.” 

“Be careful with him! Please…” 

  
She watched helplessly as they carried him away. How could she explain the connection she felt to Laurance, how she needed him to be safe and loved, close to her? 

_Keep him safe,_ she silently begged them. 

She let her fingers brush over the scorched grass where her friend and his wyvern had landed. For Ungrth’s sacrifice, to honour his dying wish, she would protect the Guard of Meteli. 

_I promise._

Silently, she trailed Garroth back to her house. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Garroth watched the young man, sprawled helplessly across Aphmau’s spare mattress in the basement. Asleep.

Transcending the realm barrier had taken its toll on Laurance. His warm brown skin was dappled with strange dark wounds, tinted with purple, deep and sinister. They filled Garroth with a sense of foreboding, a bad omen, speaking of dark times to come. Zoey had stripped him of his armour and dressed him, in scavenged clothing, but even that could not hide the smoke peeling from his skin. 

The wounds seemed like burns, but how could that be?

Zoey had confirmed it - the man was blind as well. So helpless, innocent. 

Garroth’s gaze was blurred. All he could see was a threat. 

The villain. The enemy. 

This was not the privately passionate and clever man that Aphmau had confided to him, no - Garroth could never imagine what she saw in him. This vulnerable, wrecked form was a casanova, a notorious flirt, a reckless young man with no clear motives - a danger to everything that Garroth stood to defend. 

What did Aphmau see in _him?_

Laurance had sacrificed himself for Garroth’s Lord - but did that make him ‘good’ at all? Did that make him desperate? Dangerous? 

He was a Shadow Knight no matter what his intentions. 

One hand was on his sword. 

It would be so easy to end it now. It was inevitable that Laurance’s presence would destroy Phoenix Drop, and everything that Garroth loved. Aphmau, his Lord. A Shadow Knight would shatter everything he fought for; it would create the path for Zane to seize power. 

A city on fire. 

A bright future burning before his very eyes. 

One swing of the sword, and Phoenix Drop would never have to suffer from the touch of a Shadow Knight, a warrior of the Nether like Laurance. 

Like Zenix.

One swing. 

Nothing like Zenix would ever happen again. Not while Garroth was still a guard of Phoenix Drop.

No more Zenix, no more Zane - and no more Laurance. 

Aphmau would be utterly heartbroken. She would never trust him - or even look him in the eyes again. And that alone was already rare. But it would protect her, eventually. She’d see his reasoning, as a loyal guard, as her protector. 

One swing. 

_Do it. Do it, now, before she can-_

“Garroth!” 

Aphmau froze on the stairs and they locked gazes. It seemed as if she was peering into his soul and seeing every evil thought that he had ever had, but after a moment she loosened a breathy smile.

“Garroth. I thought you might be here.” 

“I have to protect you, Milady.” He wondered if she could unravel his true meaning, but if she noticed his intentions, she didn’t comment. 

“Is he still asleep?” 

“Indeed.” 

“Zoey just talked to me.” She glanced at Laurance, as if afraid that he was listening to her. “Perhaps Zoey should tell you.” 

“Hm?” 

“She says that he wants… to talk to me. Only me.”

  
Garroth followed her gaze to the staircase, and struggled to keep his face neutral. Who was Laurance, this impostor in Aphmau’s home and town, to control him like this? To send him out of the room with his tail between his legs? 

He debated how to tell Aphmau that he couldn’t leave her alone with him, lest he… 

_Attack? She wouldn’t believe it._

“Aphmau… Laurance is a Shadow Knight. I don’t… I can’t… trust him around you… as my Lord. I have to keep you safe, and Laurance is a threat to your ultimate safety.”

For a moment, she was so silent. Then she bit her lip. “You must give him _some_ credit. I have full faith in Laurance to control himself.” 

“I’ll give him credit for saving you; that is a debt I could never repay. If it is within our power to help him, we may. But this is a soldier fresh from the Nether, with Guard training, with his blood singing to hurt you!”

“I trust him,” she protested.

“I don’t think you understand -” 

“Garroth. Laurance will not attack me.” 

“He is a _Shadow Knight.”_

“His transformation wasn’t complete!” 

“You don’t know that!” 

“Ungrth said-” 

“This man is _unpredictable_ and _dangerous_ , Aphmau. I cannot leave you alone with him.” 

She swallowed. “Leave me, Garroth. That’s an order.” 

He froze. 

_Could she do that…?_

_Do I…_

Aphmau’s brows scrunched together; Garroth couldn’t tell if she was pissed, sad, or just exhausted, but he just stood there, silently pleading with her. 

She inclined her chin. 

Quietly, cheeks burning under his helm, he sighed. “Milady, if you must talk to him, then… could you… possibly… perhaps ask him about Zenix?” 

He didn’t have the words to explain why it mattered so much. Speaking the name was ripping open an old wound, but he was suddenly filled with a desperation to _know_.

Both Zenix and Laurance were Shadow Knights.

His brother.

His enemy. 

The _traitor_. But still, Garroth couldn’t help but wonder and pray that he was alright. 

“If I have that chance, I will.” She sagged. “So that means that you’ll go and talk to Zoey?” 

“I will. But I don’t like it.” 

“Thank you, Garroth.” 

She rested a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, but the gesture felt shaken. She was still vulnerable from Ungrth’s death. He didn’t blame her - it had shaken him, too, although he was reluctant to show it. All he could see was a corrupted Raven - not Ungrth.

Laurance was nothing but a catalyst. 

Cautiously, he left the room.

_If Laurance lays one finger on her…_

_He’ll have Hell to pay._

  
  


* * *

He was so still. So calm. He seemed peaceful, so much unlike when they had found him in the clearing, body steaming and burning.

Aphmau was suddenly filled with the overwhelming urge to turn and let him rest. With his burns, it seemed like he deserved it. 

Garroth spoke logically - but he was still scarred by Zenix’s betrayal, and losing a friend. Laurance was nothing like Zenix, and certainly not as unstable as the boy had been. _Right?_

Laurance wouldn’t hurt her. She had to believe that. 

She would come back when he was awake. 

She was climbing back up the stairs when the mattress groaned. 

“Aphmau?” 

A moment of silence spilled over them. Aphmau froze. 

Laurance, sitting up on the bed, looking around helplessly. Searching for her - uncertain if she was even there. She was no more than a ghost to him. His playful emerald gaze was no more - cautious, pale blue, shattered glass in his iris splintered around the room sightlessly, trying to trace her movement. 

The spell broke, and she stumbled to the bed and gripped him in a tight hug. His skin was dangerously hot. 

  
“Argh!” 

“Oh, Irene, sorry, sorry!” She flinched back, eyeing the smoke curling from his sensitive burns. “Laurance, you’re - I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” She babbled her apology over and over, gripping and stroking his hands, holding them and never letting them go. 

“Aphmau-”

“I’m so sorry! I left you!” 

“Aphmau…” 

“I’m sorry!” 

“Stop it!” His voice was so unexpectedly gruff that she jumped. She had never heard such a tone from him, as if his chest was burdened with smoke. He wheezed slightly, trying to get out an apology. 

“I’m sorry I scared you - I - Aphmau - is it really you? Are you really here?” 

His eyes narrowed, hands tracing up her arms and sending shivers down her spine. 

“It can’t be you. I can’t really be here in… in Phoenix Drop, can I? That… that would mean…” 

“Laurance. What happened to you? I mean, your body is covered with black burns, and - and - you’re _blind,_ and-” 

“I - I can’t. Aphmau, I can’t. Becoming a Shadow Knight - nothing can prepare you for that shit. I can’t begin to describe to you… I can’t put into words how painful it was in that… that...”

He shrank slightly, no doubt remembering the Nether, and whatever he had endured in that filthy fortress. Aphmau remembered it. In her dreams, she would leave Laurance behind. Again, and again, until she would be convinced that he was never going to follow her home. 

Yet here he was.

Blind. 

Broken.

But alive before her. He had come home. 

His fingers warily touched his braid and undid it, letting his ginger hair fall loose and tangled past his shoulders. Aphmau was alarmed by how gaunt he looked.

She must have stiffened, because he leaned forward, brows narrowing. 

“I’m okay,” he assured her. He tried to maintain a smile, but it crumbled before Aphmau could be convinced. “Oh, Irene…” 

“Was it that bad?”

From the way that he sat, quietly, like a storm brewing, Aphmau instantly felt as if she had stumbled into something so private and close to him that she had no right to invade. One of his hands squeezed the other, as if comforting himself. 

“I don’t really… I don’t want to… Aphmau, I don’t think I... can…”

Suddenly, she was glad that she had sent Garroth away. This wouldn’t be the appropriate room for him - and she was grateful that she had the opportunity to be with her friend away from his concerns. This man was not dangerous. He was hurt. 

“Can we please change the subject?” he said hastily.

“Of course.” 

“Aphmau - I - let this be the last thing I tell you about the… Nether… I was turned against my will. But I want you to know that… I had to cling to my humanity through it all. It was _your name._ You carried me through. It was _you.”_

She was grateful that he couldn’t see her face. _“Me?_ I don’t understand…” 

“You’re my friend. Thinking about a future where I can… I can be your friend without worrying of everything that… I’ve done… That’s what kept me going. A future where we’re both happy, and safe. That’s my humanity.” 

For the first time, Aphmau considered what he had left behind in Meteli on the day he followed her into the Nether. He had already lost Sasha, and lost Joh. Who, and what, else had he abandoned for her? 

“Oh, Laurance, I-” 

“You have nothing to apologise for. It was my choice to go into that portal, and I don’t regret it. We’re both okay.” 

“But you… you’re” 

“I’m blind.” 

He touched his face gingerly, wincing as his fingers drifted over a burn. As if he was realising that he was not dreaming. “Ha…. haha…. I’m _blind!_ Ha…”

“What could _possibly_ be amusing in this scenario!?” 

“It’s just… it’s kind of silly. But I’d rather be blind and alive in Phoenix Drop with you than back there.” 

She grabbed his hands and squeezed them. 

“Can I hug you, or is that going to hurt too much?” 

“I can handle the pain,” he said, and for the first time since he had arrived, he managed a wry smile. Aphmau gripped him tightly, arms around his neck, and held him.

Silently telling him that he was not alone. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


From the stairway, Garroth debated if the young guard of Meteli would have to live or die.


	5. episode five

The baby shower for Alexis and Kyle had arrived under a chilled Autumn sky, slate gray curdled with cloud cover, and a playful breeze that had descended upon Phoenix Drop. 

In the plaza, Zoey was balancing on the edge of a stall, trying to string up more fairy lights, watched eagerly by Kawaii-chan and Cadenza. Close by, the air was filled with the wail of iron clashing against a metallic dummy, and the low conversations of villagers, sniffing curiously towards the crumbling hole in the middle of the plaza. 

Garroth had strung rope around the gap, but even so, he didn’t want anyone so close to the hazard. He paused his fight, lowering his sword to monitor Emma trotting close to the hole. 

“What the…” 

“Take care!” he called, sheathing his sword reluctantly. Through his helm and armour, he was panting heavily, heart still thudding with the thrill of a fight, sweat beading over his skin. “Move along.” 

The citizens of Phoenix Drop had more faith in him now, with Aphmau encouraging them, but Garroth would never forget their cruel words to him and Zenix, when they were younger. 

_No Lord._

Only the Guards to blame for the dying village.

Garroth, shielding Zenix from their stinging words as best he could, but the younger boy had heard, of course. How that must have injured his pride, his naivety!

That was Garroth’s first lesson to Zenix, as a Guard in training - to brace himself for the hatred the world would throw at him. 

Sometimes, Garroth struggled to tell if they even liked him. Emma froze, then mumbled a curse under her breath - not directed at him, but at the hole. “What in Irene is that?” 

“Just don’t go near it,” he advised drily. “Tell your friends.” 

“I’m on my way to Emmalyn’s, anyway, I’ll let her know. I have to tell her about the shower tonight!” She held up a brown bag rattling with cookies, and tucked it into her purse carefully. “Bye!” 

Garroth refused to explain why the hole was dangerous. He didn’t even know, himself, but he was convinced that it had something to do with Zane’s quest for ‘materials’ for Irene knew what he was planning. He couldn’t interpret the black and purple, writhing mass of glittering rock and gems at the bottom of the tunnel. He had never seen anything like it. 

And as for Zane...

“Garroth!” 

Perfect - just the person he had needed to see. Aphmau rounded the corner into the plaza, guiding a lanky, freckled young man, red hair dulled under the cloud cover. Garroth was glad that his helm hid his scorn of feeble little Laurance.

To Garroth’s dismay and Aphmau’s delight, Laurance was recovering from his wounds, although his burns were still present and his sight still gone, his muscles were growing stronger with each exercise. He was better, but he was nowhere near healthy. 

Laurance lifted his chin. “I can smell cookies,” he declared, somehow managing to maintain that youthful charm that made Aphmau soft. Garroth flushed. 

His voice was soft, and tentative. Infuriating. 

“Mmm… cookies,” Aphmau echoed. “Hold on, I’ll check in with Garroth first.” 

She had noticed him, and the rope he was lingering around. He walked to meet her, and bowed his head, watching Laurance in the background, standing perfectly still and alert. 

“Good morning,” he said, swallowing his concerns temporarily, directing her to look at the sinking gap in the middle of the plaza. He steered her under the rope. “I hate to disturb the good mood, but I need you to look at this, milady.”

As she disappeared, Garroth fixed his gaze onto Laurance. 

He didn’t seem aggressive. 

Zenix hadn't seemed aggressive at first, either. Logically, Garroth couldn’t connect them together - but his prejudice was blinding him. They were the same. 

How could he ever trust a Shadow Knight? 

Aphmau crawled out of the tunnel and stood, brushing black dust from herself, mouth twisted into a frown. 

“Is she back?” Laurance asked softly. 

“Mhm.” Garroth folded his arms. “Milady.” 

Aphmau crossed to him, keeping her voice low and urgent. “I don’t understand. What in Irene is this stuff? It reeks of… danger… I didn’t want to touch it. Dark forces seem to be at work here; it _must_ be Zane.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “But there’s more. I’ve done some asking around. No one has seen Zane for days. I knocked on his door, tried to see in those blacked out windows, but… nothing. Perhaps he’s left?” 

“Why would he?”

“If something came up in O’Khasis, perhaps. This could be a blessing in disguise…”

It was nothing but wishful thinking, and they both knew it. Aphmau slowly shook her head. “Or a curse.” 

“Zane doesn’t give up,” Garroth sighed. “If he wants me to go to O’Khasis, he’ll do whatever it takes to get me away from Phoenix Drop.” 

By that point, Aphmau was well aware of his fragile situation with Zane, but he still kept his voice low, lest there were unwelcome listeners. His ruthless brother disappearing without a word - that had to be an omen of danger incoming. Right? 

“Aphmau?” Laurance was looking around as a group of girls skittered into the plaza, shaking their purses eagerly. He seemed uncomfortable with the sudden noise.

“We can only hope that we can fix this,” she said, glancing towards Laurance. “Listen, Garroth, I have an idea that might help you.” 

“I’ll take anything you’ve got.” 

“Not right now. Look, are you on patrol, or…?” 

He pointed to the training dummies towards the edge of the woods that he had been battling, and she nodded sharply. “We’ll talk later.”

He blushed. “Very well, milady.” 

She was already steering Laurance to buy cookies. “We’ll be back. Sugar awaits us!”

As they walked away, Garroth caught Laurance’s low voice. “Does he _ever_ take off that helm? ” 

_I don’t - and certainly not for arrogant little bastards like you!_

He scowled, and directed his attention to the dummies, trying to keep his composure. He bent his legs, gritted his teeth.

One slash. Zenix’s head on the ground. 

One stab. Zane impaled through his heart. 

The screaming of iron focused him. His sword, thick, spiked and diamond, gleamed as he burst into a flurry of attacks, piping his frustrations into the battle. A kick to the stomach of a dummy, and a rush of satisfaction as it swayed precariously. 

A Shadow Knight, blood down his chin and throat. 

Another enemy to his home, vanquished.

Swing. Dodge. 

As if the dummies were fighting back. He was surprisingly nimble, although it was clear that his strength laid in his offensive attacks, fueled by his current stresses. Each sharp blow brought him closer to the satisfaction of a man who would be able to protect his home.

_Swing._

_Chop._

_Dodge._

His _dear_ brother, Zane, was threatening his loved ones. He wouldn’t tolerate it. 

Garroth leaned back, realising his vision was yellow, and sat roughly on the grass. He slowly came to the sensation that he was being watched, and jumped to see Aphmau and Laurance leaning against a tree close by, sharing a cookie. Laurance’s owlish blind eyes sent shivers down his spine, so innocent and curious. His head cocked slightly.

“That looked fancy,” Aphmau commented, and threw him a cookie. “Freshly-baked by Kawaii-chan. Isn’t that sweet!” 

“Sweet,” he echoed dryly, and took a bite. He had nothing against Kawaii-chan - the girl was a damn good cook. As he ate, his head seemed to clear slightly, and he was able to stand and sheath his sword. He resisted the urge to take off his helm. 

“Aphmau,” he said, beckoning her over and away from Laurance. 

_Would she hate me if I relayed my suspicions to her?_

She seemed burdened by Zane’s disappearance, and he didn’t want to add to her troubles. It would be his doubt to carry alone. 

“What’s your idea?” he urged. “Even if it’s silly, it could save me from… having to leave.” 

“I don’t want you to leave at all,” she said sincerely. “It _is_ silly, kind of, but… I think… what would Zane do if you had a lover?” 

Instantly, Garroth’s heart sank. “He would find a way to kill them. They’d be powerless against him.” 

“What if he _couldn’t._ They’d have to be in a position of power for him to even hesitate, but… you know… it could work. You know…” 

Garroth’s stomach did a back-flip. “You and me?”

Laurance stumbled to his feet, leaning against a tree precariously. “You’re kidding.” 

“I don’t recall inviting you to this discussion,” Garroth said coolly. 

“Aphmau, that would be suicide on your part. You’re asking for a death under ‘ _mysterious circumstances’_ ,” Laurance continued, forcefully ignoring him and walking his way towards them. He fumbled for Aphmau, then gripped her arm. “Don’t even pretend.” 

“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” Garroth muttered under his breath. “She could be right. Zane is unpredictable, but I wonder if he would pause if his position was on the line. He’d have to be very strategic about… er… _getting rid of you._ ” 

“Why do you need to piss off the High Priest, anyway?” Laurance said, seeming to regain some of his old cockiness. “How did you wind up in trouble with _him?”_

“He-” 

“That doesn’t concern _you_.” Garroth turned his head pointedly. “Aphmau, would you be willing to take that risk? I need to guarantee your safety.” 

“I’ll be fine. As long as it keeps you around, I’ll be happy.”

“I’ll be happy when Aphmau is _alive_ ,” Laurance muttered. 

“Hush, you,” Aphmau said.

“You need to casually… run it by Zane first. See if it’s even something he’ll forgive. But for Irene’s sake, be careful! If Zane is even still here, that is.” 

She was quiet for a moment, contemplatively chewing on another cookie. Garroth watched how Laurance gripped her, as if guarding her. 

“That reminds me. Boys, I’m inviting you both to the baby shower for Alexis and Kyle.” 

“Baby shower?” 

“How in Irene does _Zane_ remind you of a baby shower -”

Laurance cut in smoothly, cheeks flushed. “Aphmau. With all due respect, I don’t think I’m fit… to go to a _baby shower_ right now. I mean, look at me! My clothes! Cadenza would be absolutely fuming at me!” He cracked an awkward smile. 

“Cadenza has clothes for you, you doofus. Do you really think your sister would let you out at such an event without them? If I remember correctly, she had a lot more than that planned…”

His hands clutched at his plain, dirty shirt and pants warily. “Last time I let Cadenza give me a makeover, I ended up like _this.”_

He motioned loosely to his ginger hair. 

“You’re kidding.” 

Garroth barked out a cold laugh. “That’s not your natural hair colour?” 

“Nope.” Even with his blindness, he was able to shoot Garroth a withering look. “I let Cadenza dye it to match hers, and look where it got me.” 

“It suits your… personality,” he sneered.

“My _personality.”_

“You know. Loud. And obnoxious.” 

“Garroth!” Aphmau looked startled. 

Thank Irene that he was still wearing his helm, otherwise his smug smile would have given him away. He merely shrugged, and Laurance twirled his hair with a finger thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right. Although I’d rather have orange hair than have to… you know, _hide my face_ . You could be bald under there, for all I know. Where’s _your_ hair, old man?”

He grinned, but Garroth had the prickling sensation that the man was not joking around. Perhaps he had picked up on Garroth’s suspicions. Perhaps he was just easily offended. But either way, he seemed dangerously quiet.

_What are you plotting…_

“Okay, _boys,”_ Aphmau hissed through gritted teeth, seeming alarmed, as if she too could feel the brittle tension hanging in the air. “Don’t be silly. We have to get ready. Laurance, shall we go and find Cadenza?” 

“Last I saw her was with Kawaii-chan in the plaza.” 

Aphmau frowned. “Damn! She must have left before we went to get cookies. Oh well, we’ll find her.” She brushed her arm along Laurance’s hand so he knew to take it, and she guided him out of the clearing. Over her shoulder, she flashed Garroth a strange look. 

_Is that… pity?_

He hoped that she could interpret his pout through the helm. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Zane!”

Aphmau jumped. 

So he hadn’t left Phoenix Drop after all - meaning that Aphmau would have to swallow her fears and approach him about the question - what if Garroth had a powerful lover? One that even Zane would hesitate to dispose of?

There he was, striding confidently into the midst of the baby shower, without a shred of evidence that suggested that he was afraid. Robed in elegant white, golden chains with crosses adorning his neck, masked. His eyes gleamed - or rather, the remaining eye that was not covered by his swooping black fringe. 

He bowed deeply to Dale. 

Aphmau watched from a distance, hands wringing her dress. Cadenza had dressed her for the occasion in baby pink, an outfit worthy of Kawaii-chan, and twining her already naturally curled hair with ribbons. She had already been terrified by the lack of Cadenza and Laurance at the baby shower, and she could only pray that they were both alright. At least she could see Garroth lingering at the edge of the crowd, bearing his armour and helm. Zane turned his head, seeming to sense her staring. She could only watch for a moment, helplessly, as Zane met her gaze, a pale blue eye burning. He shook Dale’s hand again, and turned to the exit. 

_Why is he leaving already?_

She was certain that he had to be up to something.

She crossed to Dale quietly, trying to avoid a fuss, and tapped him.

“Hello.”

“Lord Aphmau!”

To her intense relief, he didn’t seem hopelessly drunk yet. “I noticed Zane talking to you…” 

“Ah, yes! He said he was busy, but he wanted to drop by to give Alexis a very beautiful necklace. How kind - it looks expensive, too!” 

Aphmau’s eyes fell on an amulet, gold and intricately carved - Alexis’ tiny fingers clutched at it, as she cooed happily. She seemed to like it. 

“I… Excuse me…”

She made her way through the crowd to Garroth, who merely inclined his head, anticipating her concerns. 

“Go,” he said. “Go and ask Zane. I don’t know what he’s up to, but… it didn’t look right. Not that he ever does…” 

Aphmau wasn’t quite in the mood to laugh, but she privately agreed. “I’ll do it for you.” 

Outside, the moon was full and bright, casting thin light over Phoenix Drop. She was crossing the bridge, scanning for Zane and the guards who trailed him everywhere, when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“Zane!”

“What?” he sneered. “Can’t a man give a child a gift without being stared at? You should really work on your manners, Lady Aphmau.”

“Only if you work on yours.”

His guards stiffened, hands lingering over their weapons. Zane waved them off casually. “Touché.”

For a moment, Aphmau didn’t speak, unsure of where to even begin with her questions. Zane took the opportunity to circle her, eyes flashing.

“Hm. You look like you have something on your mind… is Garroth going to finally come and fulfill his duty as the first-born to Lord of O’Khasis?”

“What? I- well- what if I told you that Garroth had another lover in his life?”  
  


Zane’s pupils thinned slightly, like a predator focusing on his fleeing prey for the first time, flickering with malicious delight. 

“Garroth? Having a _lover?_ Heh… let me ask you, Lady: how would that make you feel?” 

“Happy for him.” She did not hesitate, for that at least was the truth. 

“Hm… what a _supportive_ Lord you are! Well, let’s say, _hypothetically,_ that my brother did have a lover. You’d think I would have seen him with them at some point… _especially_ during that wedding. But if I recall, _you_ were Garroth’s date to the wedding! Funny, that.”

“He wasn’t my date to that wedding,” she protested, flushing. “That’s not it at all.” 

He cleaned his nails lazily. She remembered that she would have to pose as his date, and swallowed.

“What are you getting at, exactly?” 

“Let’s say - we’re still in this hypothetical universe, remember - that Garroth _does_ have a lover. A miracle, but sure. I’d take _such_ good care of them. They would have to hold _some_ rank of significance or power, otherwise it would be far too easy to simply… rip them apart.” He allowed himself a look of pure viciousness. “So Garroth has his… fiance. Lover. Whatever. I’d of course be such a gentleman to them, and congratulate them on such _impeccable_ taste. Perhaps I’d take them out on a picnic to get to know them… a nice picnic alone in the woods. Where no one would be able to hear us… you know, if some horrible accident occurred. What a shame for them - or should I say, _her._ ”

For a long moment, Aphmau was silent, and she knew that Zane had unravelled her so-called brilliant plan. “You’re a monster.”

He let a low, cool laugh. “Don’t fool yourself, Lady Aphmau. As long as I’m alive, Garroth will marry the daughter of the Lord of Scaleswind. You will never change anything - I will still take my brother away from you. You and I should have a picnic together sometime.” 

“You-”

“Mind your temper,” he purred. “It’s time for my beauty rest now - oh, and by the way, you have one day before I take Garroth.” 

He left her there, his guards laughing at her, spitting and swearing after their retreat. “Those - those awful, insufferable, horrible - argh!” 

She stomped over the bridge. 

_How am I supposed to tell Garroth? It would break his heart to go._

One step. She rehearsed the speech in her mind. Another step. He would take off his helm. She had never seen him cry, but his eyes would glisten. Oh, how could she bear it!?

  
“Aphmau?”

She tried to regain some composure, smoothing her dress. Cadenza skipped down the path, gown pooling at her heels. Her hair was bright and flared under the moonlight as she pulled Aphmau close, oblivious to Zane’s corruption crawling through Phoenix Drop. 

“Finally, it’s time!” she sang. “Presenting the new and improved... Laurance!” 

“Laurance?” 

She had fully forgotten that Cadenza was fulfilling his ‘make-over’.

Out of the shadows slunk Laurance, cheeks flushed under the moon, pale eyes seeming cautious. “Hello.” 

He and his sister were, now, strikingly different. His hair had been cut to his ears, brown and fluffy, hands warily wringing a blue jacket. His clothes were clean. His dark burns were still mangling his dark skin, but he didn't seem to be in as much pain. Even his eyes seemed clearer, more defined despite their blindness. He reached out a hand, searching for her, and Aphmau grasped him. She couldn’t forget Zane’s threats - but something about his presence soothed her heart. 

“Wow - Laurance, I- you look… different.” 

“He looks _good,_ you mean?” Cadenza cut in gleefully, prancing around her brother, giggling. “Look at how handsome you are! Your hair is so much better!” 

“You dyed it in the first place!” 

“No matter! I must leave you two alone so you can get to know each other again!”

“I’m the same person,” Laurance murmured. As his sister scampered away, his fingers brushed his hair tentatively, feeling the curls. “Please don’t tell me she dyed my hair blue. She couldn’t stop giggling.” 

Aphmau paused, then patted his shoulder. “I hate to break it to you…” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Blue’s a nice look on you!” 

It felt illegal to joke around when the danger of Zane was still fresh, but looking at Laurance reminded her of what she was fighting for. 

“Fuck. You’re joking, right? Right? Irene help that girl; I’m going to murder Cadenza when I next see her.”

“Pfft. I’m only joking!”

“I- Aphmau, that’s not funny!” For a moment, he seemed furious, but then his gaze softened. “It feels good, to be able to… you know, laugh. I think I’m getting used to this.”

“I’m proud of you.” 

Yes, this was her cause, and her motivation as Lord. Her tightly woven friendships and bonds seemed more important than anything. 

She took his hand. “The party awaits us.” 

“I’m not sure about this…” 

“I’m here.” She led him over the bridge to the barn, where the merry music grew louder in celebration of the newest children in Phoenix Drop. So peaceful…

Aphmau was alarmed to find a figure step out of the dark on the other side, flanked by two armoured guards with their swords drawn.

Zane ran his hands through his hair lazily, savouring her silent panic. 

_For Irene’s sake._

“What do _you_ want?” 

“Aphmau?” Laurance murmured by her side. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Lord Aphmau,” a guard boomed, stepping forward. Zane simply leaned back, visibly entertained.

“By the authority of O’Khasis, you are under arrest for the sabotage of the treaty marriage between the son of O’Khasis and the daughter of Scaleswind.” 

  
  



	6. episode six

“The  _ what?”  _

Laurance stepped forward, angling his body between the guards and Aphmau. “What’s going on here?” 

“Stay out of this,” Zane sneered. “You have no business in these affairs…  _ Laurance.”  _

“How-” 

“You can’t do that!” Aphmau exploded, shoving her finger into a guard’s face. “I haven’t done anything wrong!” 

“Assault!” Zane gasped, fanning his face. “And from such a noble Lord, too… tsk, tsk… pity…” 

“Leave her alone,” Laurance spat. His hand reached for his belt, then faltered, remembering that he wasn’t carrying a weapon.  _ Stupid mistake.  _

He clenched his fists. Even blind, he was trained in hand to hand combat, although it wasn’t his strongest skill, he would still be a worthy opponent for Zane. 

Questions plagued his mind. The High Priest of O’Khasis was in Phoenix Drop - why? What quarrel did he have with Aphmau? And Garroth too, he supposed. It seemed as if danger was constantly circling the pair of them.  _ Does Aphmau ever stay out of trouble?  _

“Leave her alone,” he repeated, and instantly felt hot breath in his face and hands on his chest, shoving him back. He fought to regain his balance, then hesitated, unsure of his position. One blow, and he could fall over the side of the bridge. He swore roughly at the guard that had blocked him, wishing that he had his sword - and a sense of sight. Aphmau’s hand touched his shoulder, guiding him to her.

“You-” 

“What’s going on here?” 

Zane’s guards parted to reveal Garroth, sword drawn. He angled his head at Zane. “Hands off my Lord.” 

Zane spread his arms out, scoffing. “I’m not touching  _ your  _ Lord, dear brother. Lady Aphmau is attempting to pose as your girlfriend in order to stop this wedding from happening… did you know that your Lord was sneaking around in the night, trying to fake a relationship with you?” Laurance heard Garroth breath shakily, not even protesting. His  _ brother?  _

Garroth, the  _ Ro’meave?  _

“Did you  _ ask  _ her to do this for you? That she would stoop so low as to keep you chained to her? Lady Aphmau is under arrest, and will be held on trial on account of attempting to light the fires of war once again.” 

As a guard reached for Aphmau, Laurance felt Garroth stir to block her, as Laurance made the same movement. The pair of them brushed arms. Not for the first time, Laurance wished that he had a weapon, with a feeling that he was not quite as intimidating as the armed and masked Head Guard of Phoenix Drop. 

“You can’t do this to her!” Garroth spat, brandishing his sword. “Lady Aphmau is innocent! If you - if you lay a single hand on her, I-” 

“Now, now, brother, I’m only trying to follow the law! Isn’t that what a good man does? We can’t trust women like Aphmau to protect villages - she’ll lead them to espionage!”

“Bullshit,” hissed Laurance. He could tell that Garroth was fighting his temper.

“What…  _ exactly…  _ did she do?” 

“Lady Aphmau approached me asking hypothetical questions about Garroth’s  _ hypothetical  _ lover. Why would she ask if she wasn’t planning something mischievous, hm? It is clear to me that she’s attempting to come between the treaty marriage for her own selfish reasons - money, and power. She wants Garroth for herself! Such a bitch would do anything to secure her own ambitions… at least, that’s how the court will see it.” He let out a low, delicate laugh.

_ Do something, do something.  _ For too long, Laurance had been waiting in the wings. He had waited to turn around, and Joh had died. He had waited for Aphmau, and the Nether had chained him. How could he hesitate again? He had to protect Aphmau, no matter the cost.

“And as for you, my  _ stupid, loveless  _ brother,” Zane continued, smiling mockingly, “you can’t escape this marriage, no matter how hard you fight it. You’re pathetic.” 

“You-” 

“I’d appreciate it if you never spoke that way about my fiance ever again,” Laurance cut in.

The world went silent. Laurance held his breath, relieved that his eyes could not give his churning emotions away, and that Garroth’s face was hidden. He prayed that Aphmau could hold her tongue. 

“Your fiance…?” There was clear surprise in his voice, and Laurance had to savour that. He had startled the High Priest. 

“Aphmau was never trying to sabotage the wedding. She was only attempting to protect me, although her methods were strange, her only intent was to spare me the heartbreak of watching Garroth marry another person.” 

He forced himself a look of utter despair. 

For a moment, Zane seemed thoughtful, then barked a cruel laugh. “Do you think I’m stupid, Laurance? Do you think I wouldn’t anticipate that you would cover for her? I know who you are. I know where you come from - and what happened to you -” 

He forced a shred of his old swagger, that young cockiness, into his voice as he cut the High Priest off. “What’s the matter, Zane? I know _you,_ too. I wouldn’t think that a High Priest would even believe in the Shadow Lord. Isn’t it… dare I say, taboo? Illegal, some might say?” 

Aphmau skittered back to stand by Laurance’s side. Garroth inclined his head. 

“Well- well, yes, but…”

“My love for Garroth is a precious and fragile thing, and Aphmau was only attempting to preserve it - him. The light of my life, in a world that has gone dark and cold for me. You take this  _ light _ away from me, yet you dare to frame those who seek to protect us? You cannot fault Aphmau for that. I doubt that the Elders of O’Khasis would appreciate your plight of false accusations against a Lord.” 

Zane’s voice became predatory, rippling with a threat. “Don’t make me destroy you, Laurance.” 

“Try me. You attempt to take everything from me, High Priest, and I would gladly let you destroy me. I have nothing left to lose.” 

Garroth had been cautiously silent until then, and took a step forward. 

“If you take either of them, brother, I will make your task  _ so  _ much harder. You don’t raise your voice at my fiance like that.” Laurance almost sagged in relief to hear the guard’s voice ringing clear and strong. 

_ As frustrating as he may be, thank Irene that he’s a decent liar. _

His gloved hands found Laurance’s and squeezed, so hard that it was almost painful, a silent message. He was only lying for Aphmau, but that was fine. So was Laurance.

“Prove it.” 

“Why should I have to prove anything to you? You’ll only rip us apart regardless.” 

“Laurance. What does my  _ dear brother  _ look like?” 

He tried not to let his look of utter panic show, but Garroth stiffened. There was no way for him to cheat on such a test. Could he bluff his way through? 

  
“That’s a fool’s question,” Laurance blustered.

“I’ll wait.” Zane folded his arms. “It seems to me that you barely know my brother at all. Perhaps I  _ shall  _ take Aphmau for treason after all.” 

“That’s not necessary.” Instinct drove him onwards. “Garroth - at least, to me - looks like an angel of Irene’s descent. Tanned. Blonde, curly haired.” An image began to bloom in his mind and he went with it. “His freckles are like constellations. I could trace them with my finger!” He chuckled breathlessly, panic making him fumble his words. “And - and - and grey eyes.” 

“His eyes are blue.” 

_ Shit.  _

“Are they? Then you’ve clearly never seen Garroth in the dark twilight when we would meet, on the beach. His eyes are grey in that light, like smoke, shifting in the shadows.”

_ Thank Irene.  _

Zane pondered this for a moment. 

Their hands were still intertwined. Garroth’s grip was so tight that Laurance was beginning to lose feeling but he stood straight, blindly challenging Zane’s glare. 

“Garroth?” 

“I love Laurance. Enough that I would follow you to O’Khasis if it keeps him safe.” 

“Aphmau?”

“It’s true,” murmured Aphmau, sliding her arms around them both. “They shouldn’t have to be split up.”

“Too bad,” muttered Zane. “Well then. I suppose… shame on you two for jumping to conclusions so quickly.” 

Laurance heard Zane hitting his two guards. 

“I’ll be punishing you both for the attempts on Lady Aphmau’s life - she is innocent after all. I do apologise for the trouble.”

Laurance resisted the urge to shudder from his cruel, slimy words. 

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,  _ Garroth. Without  _ your beloved Laurance.” 

He smoothed his robe and strode past them, boots clicking on the bridge. Laurance’s hand was white. When they had turned the corner, he nudged Garroth. 

“You can let go now.”

They broke away, stretching their hands with groans and scowls. Aphmau hugged Laurance tightly, then Garroth, her breathing shaky. “You saved my life. Both of you. I don’t know how you pulled that off, but I’m grateful that you did.” 

“I’m sorry,” Laurance burst out. “I… I had to do something.”

“You did,” Garroth admitted grudgingly, armour shifting as he turned to face Laurance. “That was quick thinking. Although I hate to think that Zane will likely die thinking that I loved you.”

“What a shame. Am I really that bad for a husband?” 

“I don’t think your pride could handle me answering that.”

“Pfft.” 

Laurance waved him off, massaging his fingers tenderly. “You have a scarily strong grip.” 

“Your hand is tiny, what do you expect?” Garroth replied hotly. 

“Ouch! My massive ego!” Laurance clutched at his heart mockingly. 

Aphmau cut in, seeming distressed. “That’s one crisis avoided - but Zane is still taking Garroth. We didn’t stop that.” 

“Unfortunately,” Laurance said sarcastically. “You’re welcome, Aphmau, by the way.” 

“I’ll never forget it,” she vowed. “But Garroth…” 

_ Geez. Garroth this, and Garroth that. I just saved your life!  _

He shrugged. Garroth was her friend and guard, and that was important to her. 

“I’m thankful to you for saving Aphmau.” To his surprise it was Garroth who stepped forward to speak rather than Aphmau. 

“I’ve heard stories about Zane. I didn’t realise… exactly how badly you were involved with him. I had to do something.” 

“It was a clever plan,” Garroth admitted. “But I have to ask… how in Irene do you know what I look like? I can’t imagine you've ever seen me without my helm.” 

“I haven’t.” 

“Then…” 

Aphmau cut in, dancing around them, her good mood restored. “ _ My  _ favourite part was your gorgeous smokey grey eyes in the  _ moonlight!”  _

“Shut up,” muttered Garroth. “You’ll never let me live it down, will you?”

“Not at all,” Laurance answered, grinning. 

“Me, neither,” Aphmau sang. “It’s too good!”

They fell silent. 

After a moment of calm, Garroth sighed. “I wish Zane would just disappear.” 

“Don’t we all,” sighed Laurance. 

“If he had tried to take Aphmau… I would have…”

“But you know what happens to people who get in the way of Zane’s plans. Don’t you remember the Neapolitan Villages? A Lord was killed just for talking back to the Elders, and replaced with a glutton who does everything O’Khasis orders. That can’t happen to Phoenix Drop.” 

“I won’t let it,” Garroth vowed, with a fierce stare at Aphmau. Laurance heard the determination in his words. No matter his dislike of Garroth, he had to admit that he was loyal. “I don’t want to talk about my brother any more. Shall we enjoy the baby shower,  _ finally?”  _

“Let’s go have fun,” Laurance agreed. “Come on, my darling Gawwoth!” He grinned. 

“Hmph. You’re  _ dead _ .” 

“Aw, come on, you have to admit I’m a good actor. Almost as good as miss ‘you have blue hair’ over here!” He jerked his thumb towards Aphmau. 

“Hey!” Aphmau protested. 

“Blue hair looks good on you,” Garroth sneered. 

“See, you admit I look - hey, wait a second! You-” 

Garroth chuckled, drowned out by Aphmau’s furious giggling. “I told you so!” 

“You’re kidding, right? You’re so kidding. You guys are jerks!” 

But even as he told himself he wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t laugh, he was; the night was suddenly alive with glee. 

  
  


* * *

“Aphmau! Aphmau, wake up! Aphmau!” 

Aphmau woke up, her breath caught in her throat, clutching at her bedsheets. “Levin!? 

“No, no! It’s not that - Aphmau!”

Her eyes flickered and drooped, confused and hopelessly tired from the baby shower the night before. Zoey leaned over her, face white and golden hair caught in a braid down past her hips, swinging as she shook Aphmau. “You awake?” 

“Zo-Zoey, I’m awake, what-” She stifled a yawn taking in Zoey’s wide eyes, bloodshot, panting heavily. “What!? What’s wrong!?” 

Of course, it felt as if she couldn’t spend a night without something going wrong. 

“Is it Levin!?” 

“No, no, Levin’s fine! There are barrier magicks around the house, it’s just - there’s an unbalanced force of magicks in the air, in town. Dark magicks - I don’t understand. Something’s wrong, Aphmau - please, you have to believe me.”

“Of course I do.” She knew that Zoey’s magicks were powerful - powerful enough to sense a discrepancy in the balance of the world. “I…” 

“Go check on everyone, please,” she begged. “This is so wrong.”

She massaged her throat, looking distressed. Aphmau stumbled out of bed; Zoey handed her a jacket to cover her nightgown. Aphmau jolted to find that it was still dark outside, the stars keeping guard over the town. Zoey paused at the stairs. 

“I’m going to stay here,” she said, as if she had to convince herself more than Aphmau. “I’ll protect Levin.” 

“Thank you.” 

_ Levin is okay. He’s fine. Zoey will take care of him.  _ But that didn’t make it any easier to leave him. 

Laurance was feeling his way up the stairs from the basement and almost crashed into her as she stumbled into the kitchen and shouted in dismay. 

“Oh, it’s you, thank Irene. I thought-” 

“Aphmau. What’s going on? Something feels dark… strange… I’ve felt it before, when I transcended the realm barrier - this pain!” He gripped his stomach. “What’s happening!?”

“I don’t know, but I have to find out. Stay here.” 

“But-”

“Please.” 

After a moment, he bowed his head. “Please be careful.” 

Outside, things were no better. Garroth stood halfway down the path twining to town, trying to soothe a frantic Kawaii-chan. Brendan stood next to her, patting her arm, looking visibly uncertain. 

“Garroth?” 

“Aphmau, thank goodness. It’s Kawaii-chan, I - I don’t understand what she’s trying to say. Something about magick? But -” 

“It’s just as Zoey said!” 

“Aphmau-senpai!” Kawaii-chan gasped, clinging to Aphmau. “You feel it too, don’t you? This- this feeling. Dark magicks are here, in town, darker than anything I’ve ever experienced! I can’t even harness my own magicks! It’s so dark…”

The girl was trembling, her curly pink hair bobbing with her heavy breathing. Through the mask, Garroth seemed unsure of himself. 

“What do I do!?” Aphmau cried.

“Find the source!” she gasped. “My magicks are frenzied - I can’t find it. Not by myself. You feel it, don’t you?” 

Something was pulsing in the distance, something dark and writhing that Aphmau couldn’t put a name to, but was sure was edging ever closer. “I… I think…” 

“Argh!” Kawaii-chan clutched at her head, whining feebly. Garroth rubbed her back. “Fetch the girl a blanket, Brendan!” 

Aphmau could feel Garroth watching her as she ran down the path, her heart beginning to thud and her temples aching from exhaustion and fear, but she didn’t turn. 

_ I’ll be okay.  _

_ And Garroth can look after himself. I trust him.  _

A stray cat sped past her, followed by Kiki, cursing under her breath. 

“Kiki!?” 

“The animals! They’ve all escaped, Aphmau - this isn’t normal! I’m sorry, I can’t talk, I need to catch them!” 

The girl burst into a sprint, red hair bouncing, as Aphmau stood, struck helpless. 

_ What the fuck is going on!? The animals, the magicks… _

Distraught wailing reached her, a woman, shouting for help.

Aphmau struck out, fighting her way through the streets, teeming with people -  _ her  _ people - begging for answers, clucking in confusion, swarming close to - 

Molly’s house. A black, writhing mass, tinged with purple gemstones - just like what had been at the end of the tunnel in the plaza - was seeping through the door of her home, of Dale and Alexis - 

Molly, screaming high above the night. Aphmau shoved her way inside, navigating the rock that seemed to shift and move under her eyes but would not be physically moved. She had to crawl up the stairs, where the sound of distress became clearer, more defined, and Dale was shouting and swearing at the rock filling half of the room and the cot of Alexis.

“Hold on, Alexis, I’ll get you out of there-” 

“Help, help! Someone, anyone! Help! My little girl!” 

_ Oh, no! _

__

“Molly!” 

“Aphmau, Aphmau - I - it’s Alexis - she -” 

“Fuck! It’s not budging!” 

Aphmau lunged next to Dale and began to scrape at it, fingernails not even scratching the rock. “I- I don’t understand!” 

“My little girl is in there!” 

“I know, I know, we have to - it has to be -” 

She leaned back. 

_ “Zane.”  _

Dale didn’t even notice her leaving - but Molly turned, eyes wide. “Aphmau?” 

She was already down the stairs and out into the crowd, her headache growing in strength as she stumbled through the night.

She almost tripped over Grey Wind standing in the middle of the street, hackles raised and lips peeled. His coat was… 

Black. Spiked, and as black as the rock. He growled, rumbling like a thunderstorm, snout pointed towards the plaza. When she reached out a hand to touch him, he snapped at her. 

“Grey Wing…” 

She watched him, staring at the plaza.

The slightest hint of black rock peeked around the side of the mines, leeching onto the street.

“Damn it!”

_ I have to get Alexis out, but… but… how?  _

She went to turn back when the smell of smoke lured her back. She could hear the crackling of something burning, and the sky turned grey and heavy. 

_ Fire!  _

She stumbled into the plaza. 

Nothing had been spared from the black stone coating everything, seeping up the walls, the surface seeming to shift like a hive, an ant’s nest. Aphmau cried out at the darkness scooping up from the ground in an arc, curling around a dark figure, standing still despite the fire flickering close to his boots. In his arms, he cradled a child. 

Alexis. 

“Shhh…you’ll wake the baby.”

* * *

  
  


“Not one more step forward, Lord Aphmau,” Zane purred, keeping his voice hushed, pale hands stroking the hair from Alexis’ face. He smiled. “I tire of your petty mind games. Trust me - you’ll soon wish you never questioned me.” 

“Zane, leave Alexis out of this,” she begged, lowering her voice to a cracked whisper. “Please. She’s a  _ child _ , please. Your quarrel is with me.” 

“One way or another, we all have to witness the power of the Shadow Realm.” His voice was dangerously calm, thriving in her fear, her terror. “I’ll start with you.” 

His hands did not quiver once as one raised a gleaming jar, the other squeezing Alexis to him tightly. 

Her caution forgotten, Aphmau burst into a run, yelling. “Let her go!” 

He let out a low laugh as he merely poured the contents of the jar over the baby, and cackled as it bathed her in a writhing black light. 

“Yes!” 

“Alexis!” she cried out. 

_ Please let her be okay! _

_ It didn’t work, it didn’t work, it… it didn’t… _

The darkness faded. Zane’s laughter faded into a flat buzz as a tall figure raised themselves from the ground, brandishing a crimson blade. Their skin was coated in thick, dark armour, that seemed to pulse with power - and a cruel, wicked helm, with horns and spikes curling from it. 

“A-Alexis?” 

The stranger fixed a dark, soulless gaze onto Aphmau. 

“Alexis!?” 

They began a confident gait towards her, sword raised. 

“You can’t escape it!” Zane crowed. 

Aphmau had a dagger shoved hastily in her belt and pulled it onto Alexis, waving it. “Don’t come any closer!” 

If Alexis had any doubts, she did not show it. She swung her sword at Aphmau’s head and she ducked, met with the terror that her dagger would not be enough against such a long weapon. 

_ Defend yourself! _

_ Irene, no, how could I hurt her?  _

Alexis kicked her chest and sent her sprawling to the ground, winded and wheezing, fighting for breath. 

“I- I- don’t want to hurt you!” 

“Don’t fight it!” Zane screeched. 

Alexis lifted her sword over Aphmau’s neck. 

_ No, no, no, no!  _

“Alexis, stop, it’s me! Aphmau!” 

But how would the child inside even know to recognise her Lord? Was this even Alexis, or simply a hollow shell of her? What had Zane done to her? 

“What the-” 

Alexis’ swing halted in midair - she spun, locking onto a new target. On the stairs to the plaza, Molly trembled. Aphmau met her eyes. 

“Molly, no, stay back! Run!” 

But the woman took a step forward, approaching Alexis, eyes glistening. She barely even reacted to the plaza, destroyed by darkness and fire. 

“Have - have you seen a little girl? My little girl? Alexis? Do you - do you-” 

The girl’s armoured hands lifted, and with a single tug, her helm dropped to the ground. The world seemed to pause for a young woman to lift her head, blonde hair falling from its plait and spilling over her back. 

Her face was still young. Still innocent. Eyes blank. Aphmau was on the ground, in disbelief that this could be the same girl that had just attacked her so mercilessly. 

“Molly, go!” 

“Have you seen Alexis?” Molly urged. 

Alexis cocked her head. “Mama?” 

Molly cried out in pain. “This - this - you-” 

The girl dropped, passed out on the rock, hair unbound and spilled behind her. The one trait linking her directly to Molly, who was crouched over her, gripping her tightly. “Is that you? Alexis? My baby!?” 

The crackling and the thunder resumed, and when Aphmau turned, Zane had vanished. 


	7. episode seven

_ “I may not be pretty. I’m not a baker, or an artist, or a poet. I’m no leader. But, Aphmau, I’m smart. And I think I can help you.”  _

_ “Emmalyn, that’s - that’s - that’s wonderful!”  _

_ Aphmau didn’t know how to respond to Emmalyn’s feelings of inadequacy, and she had a feeling her sympathy would be rejected. Her insecurities seemed like mere ripples in the ocean to Aphmau, but she imagined that they were mountains to Emmalyn - and she wouldn’t be able to understand how she didn’t feel beautiful, but Aphmau could support her through it. She put a reassuring hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, her owlish eyes rounded by her glasses as she blinked up at Aphmau warily. “I read a lot of books…”  _

_ “Go on.”  _

_ “This entity that’s slowly swarming the town - I’ve read about it before.”  _

_ Aphmau’s eyes widened in admiration. She knew that Emmalyn was a bookworm, but she was startled by the extent of knowledge that she seemed to know.  _

_ “We need Wyvern blood for this to work,” she warned, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And I don’t know how or even where to… start… with that… But apparently the first step to purification is... to obtain Wyvern blood.” _

_ “Hm.”  _

_ Aphmau knew Wyverns - but she couldn’t imagine how she would obtain Wyvern blood now, when Ungrth was dead and she had left behind the others in a long-forgotten realm. She sighed heavily, and Emmalyn leaned forward.  _

_ “Don’t worry, it’s okay, I’ll keep looking! There has to be something we can do…” She trailed off, seeming unsure. _

_ “I have full faith in you,” Aphmau answered, trying to seem hopeful. But the truth was, she shared Emmalyn’s doubts. How would she ever repair Phoenix Drop from Zane’s filthy corruption? Everyone’s spirits had been crushed, not by Zane himself, but the destruction of their homes and beloved town that they adored so much.  _

_ At least Logan and Donna were happy on their honeymoon; the last thing that Aphmau needed was Logan riling everyone up and accusing her of failing the village.  _

_ She was already telling herself that.  _

**_It’s all my fault._ **

“This is  _ not  _ your fault,” Laurance said without her even declaring her doubts, as if he could read her mind. 

She retreated from her memory with a jolt, frowning. “How did you do that?”

He merely tilted his chin. He had settled himself in front of an open window, resting his head on the windowsill and letting the wind tussle his hair. She wasn’t yet used to his new haircut - perhaps it was what he had gone through in the Nether, but Laurance was no longer himself, and cutting off his long hair seemed to solidify his transformation. No longer the bright, reckless young guard of Meteli, hair shining in the sun, but a shadow of himself. Aphmau was hurt to see him so quiet - as if his adventurous streak had been chained to the Nether. 

_ Are you missing Ungrth? _

“It’s not your fault,” he said after a moment, leaning back to look in her direction. “I can tell, because you’re so quiet; you’re contemplating how to fix the mistake you think you made.” 

“If it’s not my fault, then whose?” 

“Unless my ears deceived me, it  _ was  _ Zane burning and destroying Phoenix Drop, right?” 

So he still held his impressive sarcasm. It was almost like when they had first met. Almost. 

“Sure. But who let him stay here to officiate Logan and Donna’s wedding? Me. It was me.”

“You didn’t bring him here.” He was trying to be reasonable, but his temper was on a tight leash, and Aphmau could recognise that. He was frustrated with himself.

“I allowed him inside our borders.” 

“You almost died because of him. That will  _ never  _ be your fault.”

“My stupidity isn’t anyone’s responsibility.” 

“Aphmau!” he snapped. His sharp tone begged her to stop arguing, for both of their sakes, and she paused for a moment, wringing her hands together. “I had to lie to keep him from executing you. I had to pretend to love  _ Garroth,  _ of all people - you know things are bad when Garroth and I have to pretend to be lovers,  _ ugh _ .” He shuddered. “Zane is the villain here, okay?”

“That makes me the hero?” Aphmau sighed, trying to restore a sense of calm. 

“There are no heroes,” he responded evenly. “But I know that you’re doing good.” 

  
“I have to…”

“Heh. I think I found your fatal flaw.” He ran his hands through his hair, grinning awkwardly. Just for a moment, he seemed young again, lifting his chin to the wind as if surveying a distant land. It made her realise what, exactly, she was fighting for.

“I have to fix this, no matter what. I must pick up the pieces.”

“Do you ever think about  _ you?  _ Your responsibilities don’t define you, Aph.” 

They had spent many long, warm nights escaping their responsibilities, talking about a future in which they would both be free, adventuring together - but that was before the Nether. Now, Aphmau couldn’t imagine a life for herself without Phoenix Drop woven into her fate. Just like Laurance and Garroth, who had twined themselves into her path without planning to. 

“No.” 

“No? Don’t you miss it?” 

“How could I miss something that I’ll never have?”

He gritted his teeth.

“I have to repair Phoenix Drop,” she said, touching his shoulder. 

“How noble,” he responded, riddled with bitterness and regret. They were the same, both thinking about their late night conversations and wishing that everything could be different. He wasn’t angry with her, and she knew that. 

“I heard you talking to Molly.” 

“You-” 

“I wasn’t snooping, I promise.” He gave a half-smile. “My hearing seems to be much better, now that I’ve adjusted… I heard what you were saying. About Alexis, poor girl. And what Molly said:  _ keep smiling.  _ Perhaps there are no heroes - but I know you, Aph. I know that’s what makes you good. It’s hard to smile all the time, for everyone; you need a break once in a while.”

“I’m okay,” she protested. 

“Just… remember that.”

She wanted to sit with him and not speak, just understanding each other. Just as they had in the past. But her hand slipped from his shoulder and she stood awkwardly. “I…” 

“Just go. You have things to do, it’s fine. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

“Okay. I need to get Wyvern blood.” 

He didn’t question her, no matter how strange the request was. “Good luck.” 

She left with unanswered questions and doubts hovering over her, chasing her out onto the streets, searching for a way to heal her village. She was finding it harder and harder to smile.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She found Garroth at the beach, on the docks, sagging as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. He gripped a piece of parchment in his fingers, squeezing tightly. He barely reacted as she sat down next to him. He had no sword, or shield - it made him seem smaller, more vulnerable than she was used to.

_ Just like at Logan and Donna’s wedding.  _

Just like during her conversation with Laurance, she couldn’t fight her reflections of the past - and how they had all transformed since. 

Even with his helm covering his expression, Aphmau could sense worry peeling off him in waves as he sat, his feelings unsteady.

“What’s that?” 

“A… a letter from Raven.” 

Whilst Garroth’s Wyvern was far smaller and sharper than Ungrth, thinking of any golden Wyvern raised a great sadness within Aphmau. She felt as if she could have done something - anything - more to help Laurance’s best friend and companion. 

“Ah. What… does it say?” 

Garroth held it tighter. “It’s from… from Zane. I don’t want to read it. Today would have been the day I left Phoenix Drop.” 

“But you didn’t! You’re here, so it’s all okay!” She smiled weakly, comforting herself more than him, certain that there was still danger lurking beyond Zane’s influence. How could she tell her friend that he would never be free of his brother?

“Do you want me to read it?” 

It seemed as if Garroth couldn’t bear to look. He passed it to her, hanging his head.

_ Dearest Brother, _

_ My sincerest apologies for having to leave so abruptly. Official business came up in O’khasis that was deemed more important than your treaty marriage, and the Elders summoned me home. It disgusts me to say that your marriage has been temporarily put on hold - but don’t fret! You haven’t escaped this arrangement, and I will hold you to your promise to marry the daughter of Scaleswind. You should thank me for the extra time with your beloved Laurance before I tear you apart!  _

_ Thank you for the incredible hospitality while I stayed in Phoenix Drop. I had so much fun; I hope you aren’t upset at all about the whole Alexis incident! You’re smart, Garroth, I know you’ll figure it out. I can’t wait to see you again. _

_ Yours truly,  _

_ Zane Ro'meave  _

_ High Priest of O’Khasis  _

_ PS: Give Kiki a goodbye kiss from me. _

She scanned the parchment once, twice, and sat up in disbelief. “Oh, thank Irene. You’re off the hook, for now!”

She refused to even acknowledge sweet Kiki being mentioned by Zane. Had they…been together? She couldn’t bear to think of it, could not imagine Kiki’s affections falling onto the High Priest. Garroth snatched the letter from her and stared at it for a long time, as if unable to comprehend. 

“... Garroth?”

“A-Aphmau. We did it! I don’t have to go - now we have more time to figure this out! I - we -” 

She squeaked as he hugged her tightly, gripping her with sudden confidence. He had never been so openly affectionate before - at least, not to her. 

She leaned into Garroth and squeezed him. “We fixed it, at least for now.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It… wasn’t all me. Laurance too.” 

“Laurance,” Garroth muttered. “I suppose I  _ will  _ have to thank him, too…” 

“ _ Yes _ , you will,” she said sternly, patting his shoulder. “I owe so much to him.”

“That is a debt that I will never be able to repay, but yet…”

“I usually trust your judgement, but not this time, Garroth. I trust him.” 

For a moment, he was silent, and she was afraid that she had upset him. But then he sighed and murmured, “I’m scared, milady. I shouldn’t be - I can’t be. But... I don’t want to lose you, or Phoenix Drop.” 

“We could’ve, if not for him. By pretending to love you, he saved my life.” 

“He  _ also  _ threatens your life.” She had a sense that he was instantly ashamed of his words as he hung his head.

“Garroth!”

“What!? Can you blame me?” His hands reached for his sword, then paused as he realised it was missing. “I can’t help but worry… what’s going to happen when he can’t control his own emotions? It wouldn’t be his fault, but… what if the Underworld still holds him?”

“He’s shown no signs of that.”

But she remembered that morning, his head resting on the window, and wondered if Laurance was already feeling alienated by his experience in the Nether. Her brows narrowed. 

“Do you have any logical reason to mistrust Laurance? Any evidence?” 

“I - well - I trust my  _ gut _ . My instincts. And both are screaming for me to  _ be careful.  _ Laurance could sabotage the way that I guard you, milady.”

He was trying to seem reasonable. 

“With all due respect, Garroth, I disagree.”

She got to her feet. 

_ Keep smiling.  _

“I’m scared, too, Garroth,” she admitted. “I recognise your concerns. But my fear won’t paralyse me into giving up my friend.” 

She left him there on the docks; he simply kept staring at the letter, as if not believing it. 

Free from Zane, but not from his own mind. 

  
  


* * *

_ “Garroth?” _

_ “Hm?”  _

_ “Where can I find Raven?”  _

_ “Are you looking for him?”  _

_ “I don’t know yet.”  _

_ “Well, if you  _ **_are_ ** _ looking for Raven, you can’t sit and wait for him to approach you. Wyverns are no cats. You must pass a trial, and the trial is, typically, to find them in the first place. It’s rare to encounter a Wyvern by complete chance. The Wyvern den is in the hills to the West, if you really need to find him, and if you manage to hunt him down then he may feel inclined to listen to whatever you have to say. But he may be asleep during the day - best to wait till evening or later, when they’re alert.” Garroth paused to look her up and down. “Why do you need Raven, anyway?” _

_ “No reason in particular,” she said. “I was just curious. You talk about Raven a lot, yet I never seem to see him around, so I wondered...” _

_ “We have a peculiar relationship,” Garroth said, chuckling under his breath. “Any bond formed with a Wyvern tends to be. As you might tell, it doesn’t happen often at all. I’m blessed to have even seen one with my own eyes.” _

_   
_ _ She couldn’t help but think of Ungrth, Laurance’s close companion, a powerful golden Wyvern that had warmed to her soon after meeting. They were good friends, closer than Garroth and Raven seemed to be. She wondered how that came to be. _

**_I was blessed to meet him, too._ **

**_I wonder what Ungrth is doing now that Laurance is in the Nether..._ **

_ “Thank you.” _

  
  


Night fell over Phoenix Drop. 

Aphmau wandered blindly out into the west, into the woods, moonlight barely drifting through the gaps in the branches. Even after all that time, she was still inclined to compare Wyverns to cats, and felt nervous about disturbing them in the depths of night when they would be, according to Garroth, alert, active, and most dangerous. 

_ I’m friends with Garroth. Raven wouldn’t hurt me, would he? _

She prayed that he wouldn’t - she needed his help desperately, or at least his advice, since Wyverns seemed to be extremely resourceful and smarter than she would ever be. She found her way to a cliffside and felt her way along it, hand brushing the crumbling rock, squinting against the dark. She cursed herself for not bringing a lantern. 

A slightest slimmer of light danced beyond reach. She moved blindly towards it, then paused as she realised that it seemed to shift under her gaze, glowing like a gemstone…

She drew her dagger. 

_ Surely Zane’s corruption didn’t spread this far?  _

The closer she crept, the more the light seemed more golden than purple. 

A thin membrane stretched lazily in front of her, then folded itself against scales dimly lit by the gemstones. Aphmau emerged into a clearing, illuminated by the glowstone that adorned a… a grave. Gathered around it were Wyverns, golden despite the dark.

In the night, she barely recognised it, but the memory was still raw. 

Ungrth’s grave. 

She had begged him to stay alive here - and it was here that he had dissolved into ash, awaiting rebirth. 

She couldn’t imagine that Laurance had visited yet, being in the basement of her house for hours on end and briefly visiting the plaza, but she thought that she would have to take him soon. 

To ease his mind. 

The smallest Wyvern was crouched closest to the mound adorned with glittering gems, bathing his nose in the light. 

“Hello, Raven.” 

“Aphmau.” 

He did not bother with titles, regarding her through glowing, slitted eyes. He did not seem cruel - simply cautious. A larger Wyvern hummed, stretching out its wings. Raven clicked his teeth. 

“Ungrth… he is gone.” 

“I- I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” he said calmly. “Being a Wyvern of Royal Blood, we can hear each other’s thoughts. We exiled Ungrth, for his thoughts were… not always pure. He sacrificed his life to save his Laurance - we must honour that, no matter the circumstances of his exile. In return, we have made his grave most beautiful to remember him.” 

He was right - even in the night, their grand and intricate decorations communicated a respect for their lost kin. 

“If he were alive we would welcome him back into our group without question,” Raven continued, bowing his head. “But no…” 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I had no intention of disturbing your mourning, but… I… I need your help.” 

“ _ Our  _ help? What do you want?” 

“A friend told me that Wyvern’s blood has certain… properties… I need to heal a sort of corruption in my village - purify it.” 

“She told you that Wyvern’s blood will reverse this?”

“Yes.” 

He barked out strange, gritted laughter, rumbling in his chest. “Humans  _ are  _ foolish, aren’t they! They’ll write anything in a book and call it the truth if it suits them. No, Aphmau.” 

“So… the Wyvern’s blood… it’s all a lie?” 

“Indeed.” 

Despair gripped her like a claw. 

He continued, lifting his head. “The black rock and gemstones are rips in the Realm Barriers; a magick entity that can be controlled and manipulated in the grasp of someone with evil intentions. It drains the power and life-force of the user greatly if they do not understand it.” 

“So…” 

“Only few can truly control the Realm Barriers. Lady Irene was one of them.” 

_ I’m not Lady Irene. I can’t… control this dark stuff.  _

“How can I stop it from spreading!?” she begged the Wyvern.

“Lady Irene was a very unique individual… She was indeed human, although… like a Goddess. She could freely transcend the Realm Barriers without consequence to her physical form, but she caused damage to the world around her. To combat this, she erected powerful magicks, activated by these materials placed together: Quartz and Tanzanite surrounding water with - not the blood of a Wyvern - but the soul fragment of a departed Wyvern. These are… extremely hard to find in these circumstances.” 

Aphmau tried to control her breathing, but it was difficult to find a sense of tranquility in such a dire situation. She rubbed at her face. “Raven, this is very helpful, but I- I can’t- I don’t know where to get those…”

“Stop your human fretting.” 

His tone was harsh enough to make her pause to watch him dig his claws into the mound of the grave and gently rip up what seemed like a solid teardrop, glowing pale grey in the moonlight. 

“What… is that-” 

“Ungrth’s soul. He would want you to take it - if not for him, then for his companion, Laurance.” 

“I- Raven, I can’t thank you enough for this.” 

“Don’t thank us. Just do what you need. You may take the materials that you need from our den along the cliffside.” He pointed his nose to an opening in the rock. “But do  _ not  _ take more than you need. If you let greed consume you, we  _ will  _ hurt you.” 

_ I’ll… keep that in mind. _

She knew that Raven wouldn’t appreciate physical affection, but she had a feeling that he could interpret how grateful she was from her deep bow. “Thank you. Thank you, so much.” 

“The Wyverns are with you,” he said, and turned back to the grave, eyes flickering from the glow of the gemstones. He seemed quite sad all of a sudden, as he was an immortal with the world transforming and breaking around him. Aphmau watched him press his forehead to Ungrth’s grave.

“Thank you, Ungrth,” she whispered. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Garroth passed her again, as she walked along the path past the beach, clutching a large bag to her chest - she seemed so focused, she barely acknowledged him, even as he paused to bow. 

His heart shuddered with anticipation, bristling with awkwardness. “I’m…  _ sorry... _ about before. My behaviour was… out of line.”  _ But justified.  _

His respect for Aphmau prevented him from continuing the argument. 

“Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She waved him off, eyes distant. “I need to…” 

She kept walking past him.

“So… I’ll just…” 

“If this works, Phoenix Drop can go back to normal. Then I can… we can…”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but her eyes narrowed, lit with sudden determination. Her fingers were white as they clutched the bag close, afraid to lose it.

“Okay,” he said awkwardly. “Good luck, then, I’ll just… continue my shift.” 

“Mhm.” 

He watched her leave and break into a run as she reached the outskirts of Phoenix Drop; she didn’t look back at him, utterly focused on her task.

_ I should go with her.  _

_ What in Irene are you getting yourself into?  _

He couldn’t help but worry for her safety - it was a natural concern, being her guard, but he would even dare to call her a friend, and that bond ran deeper than the oath of a guard. 

_ Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?  _

He was still seething for no real reason as he stomped down the stairs to Aphmau’s basement for his shift, standing outside the rooms of Laurance and Alexis, respectively. Inside, he could hear the soft murmurs of Molly, and jolted as he realised that she was praying. 

_ Will Irene help you with something like this?  _

He didn’t dare to hope for such a blessing. 

How could he trust deities who had allowed this to happen? Allow men like Zane to seize control and allow the harming of innocents? Alexis was only a child. Molly and Dale, parents and victims of his brother’s corruption.

No, Irene would do nothing for the child. 

Of course, they wouldn’t know to blame him. But he  _ was  _ Zane’s brother. He was still a Ro’meave, no matter how desperately he tried to erase his title, it was still a burden he would carry to the grave. 

What if they noticed how the curve of their noses, their jawlines, matched? What if they still bore a grudge against him for what Zenix had done? At least a few of them had seen Garroth without his mask at Logan and Donna’s wedding.

So many eyes, waiting for him to do something, begging him to change it. But what could he do? He was helpless. Zane had trapped him once, and he had barely escaped once before. How would he do it again? 

_ Perhaps I’m not worthy to be a guard.  _

As much as he treasured and adored his position, that doubt still plagued him. 

His breathing grew tight, trapped by his helm. Just another pair of chains binding him. His hands fumbled with his helm, hesitated, then clenched into fists. 

He shoved into Laurance’s room with a curse and closed the door behind him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Garroth.”

He heard boots shift in surprise, and slight - was that awkwardness? Or simply fear... Laurance didn’t take Garroth for the type to display his emotions so recklessly. He reluctantly leaned backwards from the window, spinning in his chair, blindly focusing on the doorway.

“Wrong room,” he sneered, growing hastily suspicious, still in a foul mood from his earlier discussion with Aphmau.

Why had he acted that way to his friend? Why had he been so cruel and mocking? He had hated every word that spilled from his mouth without warning. 

_ Stupid mistakes.  _

Just another thing to apologise for later. Another thing to add to his list of stupid decisions. 

Bitterness spilled over him. Aphmau just  _ adored  _ her beloved Head Guard, mysterious and gruff, didn’t she? He wasn’t a Shadow Knight. He hadn’t allowed his Lord to die. And he  _ certainly  _ hadn’t tainted his friends with feelings of helplessness and shame. 

“Come to execute me at last, Garroth? Has Zane tired of our little game?”

The metal of his armour creaked, and something crashed to the floor. 

“Is that what you want me to say?” 

His voice seemed clearer, somehow. Less muffled. Laurance realised, eyes widening slightly, realising that Garroth had removed his helm. He barked a cool laugh. Aphmau wasn’t around to keep him in line now.

“What? Did you tire of your job, so you came in to taunt a blind man? Is that it? We get it, I can’t see you.” 

“That’s the point, jackass.” Garroth let out a groan, massaging his face. “I can’t have you taunting me for my looks to boost your  _ incredibly  _ fragile ego. It’s hard to keep the helm on all the time - not that you’d understand.” 

Laurance cocked his head, surprising himself with his curiosity. 

“That’s true,” he admitted warily. “I have no intention of smashing my face into a lump of metal every day.” 

“I don’t do this for fun.” 

“Oh? I was under the impression that you  _ did.  _ You seem the type.” 

“You’re a real comedian.” 

“What’s the point, though, really? Your brother knows where you are now - I assume that’s what you’re so anxious to hide. What’s the harm in…. y’know,  _ not  _ suffocating yourself?”

Garroth hesitated. “It’s a personal choice  _ and  _ a precaution. Once again, I doubt you’d understand.” 

“Try me.” 

When Garroth was pointedly silent, Laurance stood up. “Now, you wouldn’t hide things from your  _ husband _ , would you?” 

“I am  _ not  _ your husband.” 

“Awe. How cruel. I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you, can’t you tell?”

“Shut up.” 

“Come here, Gawwoth!” 

He was delighted to hear noises of indignation from Garroth, backing against the door.  _ He comes into my room, that’s what he gets. Prick.  _

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Ah, my incredibly fragile ego! How will I ever survive when my husband torments me this way!?” 

“I am  _ not  _ your - oh,  _ don’t  _ do that!” 

Laurance reached out his arms like a zombie, blindly stumbling towards the door, making kissing noises. “Come here, Gawwoth!”

He jumped as his shoulder brushed against cold metal, and hands shoved him away. “Get  _ off  _ me!” 

“Don’t be that way!” he jeered. 

“Ugh!”

His voice was close. Laurance lunged to the left, hands fumbling - he felt the curve of a jaw, a cheek, and laughed as gloved hands clamped around his wrists, trying to drag him away. 

“Do you  _ really  _ have freckles I can trace like constellations!?” he crowed, as Garroth hissed in frustration. “Oh, Zane ate that shit up! Don’t you like your freckles?” 

“I don’t want your filthy hands anywhere near my freckles!” 

“So you  _ do!”  _ His voice was triumphant as he finger-tipped his way along Garroth’s face. “May I?” 

“N- Get - off - me!”

Garroth shoved back, sending Laurance against a wall - with a cool hiss of metal, the edge of a sword was pressed against his throat. He froze, chest heaving, uncertain if Garroth was serious. The guard was breathing heavily. 

Shivers spidered up his spine, making him twitch. 

“Ow-”

“Are you  _ asking  _ to get cut!?” Garroth snapped, jabbing his elbow into Laurance’s chest. “Don’t test me,  _ little Laurance.”  _

“I-er…” 

Speech escaped him. In the corners of his vision, yellow spots danced into view, despite his blindness, his head ringing. “I…” 

“What the…!” 

Laurance tried to communicate his dizziness, but the words didn’t seem to make sense. 

“Fuck, Aph is going to kill me!”

Laurance slumped against the wall feebly as Garroth tried to hold him up. “You’d better not be dying right now or- or doing some freaky Shadow Knight shit, you hear me?”

Blurred shapes. 

White light. 

A face swam into view, hovering inches from his own, investigating. He made out tanned skin, and light freckles sprayed over the man’s cheeks, curly blond hair messy from… from the… helm… 

He reached out a tentatively shaking finger and pressed it to Garroth’s face. A face that he could see, in vivid colour and shape and light, splintered to life before his very eyes. 

“Agh!” Garroth leaped back, eyes widening. “What’s wrong with your - your -” 

“My eyes!” Laurance cried, feeling his own face, seeing his own shock reflected in Garroth’s eyes. He even had the sense to reflect, with a half smile, that Zane had in fact been correct. His eyes  _ were  _ blue. “I can see!” 

Garroth was, at first, too shocked to react. He sat, legs curled underneath him, sword forgotten. “You- you can… you can… _ see me?” _

“So  _ that’s  _ what all the fuss is about,” he mumbled, eyeing Garroth warily, somehow surprised, mesmerised and offended by his face all at once. 

Garroth, finally, had the sense to cover his face with his hands. Laurance was pleased to see that he was blushing deeply.

_ Is he… shy!?  _

_ The fearsome Head Guard of Phoenix Drop is  _ **_shy._ ** _ You have  _ **_got_ ** _ to be kidding me! _

“T’was all a ploy to make you let down your guard!” Laurance announced feebly, waving his hand. 

  
Garroth lowered his hands, but did not reach for his helm. He scowled deeply.

“Thank Irene you can finally see. I’ve been waiting to show you this for weeks.” 

And as he watched, Garroth gave him a sharp middle finger. 


	8. episode eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains some heavier content and self-destructive thoughts. reminder to drink water, take a break and take any medication if you need to <3 <3 thank you for reading and supporting the fic!

He could see her again. 

Her dark hair unbound, brown skin shining from the glow of a shrine curling over her, Aphmau was oblivious to his arrival. Her eyes were alight with wonder as she gazed upon the shrine and spun, twirling around a plaza. The black rock had been transformed to sleek, golden gemstones, quartz and diamonds, as if blessed by Irene herself. 

Laurance’s gaze travelled, caught in wonder. The world was  _ bright  _ and dizzying, so much that it was painful, but he endured it to see the ghost of beauty flickering before him. An openly grey sky, clouds thick and soft in clumps hanging overhead. The woods, spiking out beyond the plaza, curving delicately up to the crumbling mountain range. All of it, so much more vibrant than before, it seemed to burn as he watched. 

_ Any moment now _ , he thought,  _ it’ll be over. Just another hallucination _ . He waited for the colours to fade to black - but they didn’t. 

_ I can see. _

It was so beautiful.

He hardly cared that Garroth was handling him roughly; the guard’s hands were clamped around his wrists as he dragged Laurance into the plaza, still seething underneath his helm.

Laurance hadn’t forgotten that Garroth had been prepared to slit his throat, a sword against his neck. He would’ve done it. Laurance wouldn’t ever forget that, but he supposed that he had to blame himself for provoking the Head Guard in the first place.  _ Still…  _

There were other things he wouldn’t forget, too. Garroth’s face, his gaze, was burned into his memory. He couldn’t get over it. 

The man was  _ young.  _ And not even bad-looking, although he seemed quite shy, and quite the different person from the man with the mask. For some reason, that infuriated him. 

Finally, Aphmau turned, hearing them approach. Garroth half-threw Laurance towards her. 

“Garroth, look! I did it! I fixed it!” Her expression was triumphant as Garroth bowed his head, and Laurance saw some kind of unresolved tension rippling between them.

Her hand touched Laurance’s arm and for a moment she stared at him with her eyes narrowed, searching for what was different. 

He met her gaze evenly, waiting. 

“Your eyes…” 

“I can see you,” he whispered, voice cracking. 

“What?”

“I can see. My sight - it’s back. I don’t know how, or why - but - but-” 

She hugged him with a squeal, their earlier quarrel forgotten. “Oh, Laurance, it - it was Lady Irene! The shrine, it must’ve healed you!”

“I’m just glad it’s back. I feel better already,” he breathed, ignoring Garroth scoffing from behind them. 

“So you can see me? All of me? Nothing’s wrong?” 

“I can see you perfectly. Dark pants, sweater and all.” 

“We’d better check, just to make sure,” Garroth cut in. “Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?” For the second time, he gave Laurance a middle finger behind Aphmau’s back, and Laurance could sense him smirking under the helmet.

“Two.” He held up a peace sign. He wasn't in the mood to treat Garroth's jokes with a lazy dignity.

“Oh, Laurance, this is so wonderful!” Aphmau said, beaming. “So - what, did it come back all at once?”

“He fainted for a moment,” Garroth grumbled. 

“Wait, you were there?” 

“Yes,” he said guardedly. “I was on shift at your house.” 

“That’s lucky!” 

_ Yes. How convenient that he came into my room looking for an excuse to bully me.  _

Fair enough, Laurance had taunted him into attacking, but his neck still tingled with the memory of the cool edge of a sword pressed against it, prepared to strike. 

Shapes and colour stabbed at his vision. Garroth’s armour, white and gold and blue, spiked and jagged under his gaze. He rubbed his watering eyes, trying to blink away the shock. 

“Are you okay!?” 

“He’s crying.”

“I don’t remember it being so  _ bright, _ ” he muttered. 

“Laurance?” Aphmau brushed his arm, then pulled away as she realised that she didn’t need to physically help him to navigate. “I have something to show you.” 

Garroth straightened. “I’ll just…” 

“I’m sorry, but this is a private thing, Garroth. Is it okay if you patrol until we get back?” 

“I’ve got the town under control.” 

Laurance  _ almost  _ pitied Garroth as he merely bowed his head, but he still managed a smug smile. “Where are we going, milady?”

“Follow me.” 

He left Garroth behind. 

He couldn’t put into words the immense relief he felt being able to trail Aphmau freely, without her hand to guide him through the blackness. He saw light and beauty, and the natural world he had always wanted to explore as a child but had never crossed the line. He ventured into the woods, letting pine needles brush his skin and and the foliage cling to his legs, his eyes leeching all of the colour he could possibly contain. 

“Aph, where are we going?” 

“You’ll see… They should hopefully be asleep.”

_ “They!?”  _

“It’s nothing to worry about, I just don’t want to disturb… oh!” 

She seemed to find a path along a cliffside and burst into a run, tracing her fingers along the crumbling rock. Laurance jogged to keep up with her, enjoying his shortness of breath and the sudden thrill of adventure, trying to keep up with her. 

_ Irene, I missed this. _

He almost stumbled into Aphmau when she paused, peeking around a tree and pulling him close. “This is it. I thought you might… want to see it. To take some time.” 

“I don’t understand…” 

She parted the branches to reveal… 

_ Oh, Irene. _

A grave, illuminated by the sunlight, adorned by gems and treasures. A gnarled inscription was carved into one of the diamonds, in an unfamiliar language, but Laurance could guess.

“Is this…?” 

“Ungrth’s grave,” she said. “I thought you’d want to see it. There’s no… no body…”

“Wyverns don’t die,” Laurance said, aware that she knew that but still feeling the need to speak it into existence, to convince himself that there was no body left of Ungrth. 

His companion. 

His friend. 

The wyvern had understood him effortlessly, better than anyone else. Outcasts of their own world, finding solace in their mutual companionship. It  _ worked.  _ Ungrth made Laurance happy. 

But then… then…

He fell to his knees as Ungrth’s sacrifice truly and utterly sank in. 

Aphmau took a step back. 

“Can you - can I-”

“Of course.” 

She understood that he needed to be alone to mourn.

How would he ever repay the debt that he owed his friend? He knew what Ungrth had wanted - they had shared the intense, burning desire to be  _ free.  _ How could he fulfill it now, without him? He heard retreating footsteps crunching on leaves behind him, and the clearing was silent. 

He was alone. 

How familiar.

Laurance’s lip wobbled. 

“I’m sorry, Ungrth,” he moaned. “I didn’t mean to kill you.” 

Everyone he loved would leave him. It was inevitable. 

Joh, his fault. 

Cadenza, his fault. Not dead, but close - it had been too close. 

Aphmau had almost died in the Nether - Castor, too. 

Laurance would touch them, and their lives would wither away. 

Ungrth had sacrificed himself for a worthless coward. He half wished that Garroth had slit his throat. That Zane had executed him. He’d be better off dead. 

It would hurt - Oh, Irene, it would hurt, but wouldn’t it be an appropriate payment to Ungrth? To keep Aphmau safe? He would simply disappear from passing conversations, not that he had been a regular topic anyway. He would go back to being…  _ nothing.  _

Then no one would get hurt. 

It seemed logical at first. When he was around, bad things seemed to happen. He was a catalyst, a fire. With him gone, Aphmau would never have to suffer; her village would be safe. 

Perhaps he really was a Shadow Knight, beneath his skin. Perhaps that part of him was simply lurking, crawling in the shadows, waiting to come to life. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? 

Garroth had every reason to dislike him. His suspicions were right. He was only protecting his Lord, nothing more, and that was a Hell of a lot more than Laurance had ever been able to do. 

_ He’s right.  _

_ But I still hate him.  _

Hatred and bitterness were enough to keep Laurance alive. That burning vengeance, that loathing, that  _ nemesis  _ pressuring and taunting him -  _ that  _ was a purpose beyond existing as an empty shell. 

But even those emotions were temporary. He didn’t think he could ever unburden himself from this heaviness.

He had made a promise to Aphmau, a lifetime ago. It was becoming harder and harder to fulfill as the world erupted and cracked around him.

He hadn’t realised he was crying until he couldn’t breath, couldn’t feel his chest. His hands trembled as he clutched at himself, hugging himself through the thick, wracking sobs, trying to muffle his brittle breathing. 

_ Be quiet, be quiet…  _

_ Stop it…  _

_ Stop it! _

_ Stop crying.  _

He held himself. 

Perhaps he wanted Aphmau to stay, so that someone else would be able to hug him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Aphmau wondered if she should turn back. She had already made it back to Phoenix Drop, and hadn’t yet seen Garroth on patrol, and her heart still tugged her back towards Laurance. 

She was inclined to comfort anyone who was upset, but she forced herself to swallow her worry. He needed time to mourn his lost friend alone. That was all. She was aware that Laurance had been feeling upset lately, but she prayed to Irene that he might find a sense of clarity after visiting Ungrth’s grave. 

_ He’s okay. Stop fretting.  _

A flash of white flickered across the street, so fast that Aphmau thought that she had imagined it.

“What the…?” 

Seconds later, a shriek arose from close by. 

_ Irene, could you give me a break!?  _

She tore off after the disturbance, momentarily forgetting Laurance. 

As she rounded the corner towards the barn, she paused at the foot of the bridge where Zane had first cornered her, trying to execute her before Laurance had stepped in. On the other side, sniffing the grass, a pure white animal, fur bristling, was on all fours.  _ A wolf!  _ At first, she thought that it’s legs were bent awkwardly, until it shoved onto its hind legs, easily leaning into a bipedal stance and towering over her. It’s gaze locked with hers. 

_ Werewolf.  _

She knew many werewolves, and was still on good terms with Bodolf’s wolf village. She had rescued a wolf pup from the Nether, once upon a time. From another life away, she had helped Lowell escape from Bright Port. She had changed so much since then.

Aphmau couldn't move as the wolf took a tentative step onto the bridge, sniffing. 

“Sister Aphmau!”

They bounded over the bridge and leaned onto their hind legs, nuzzling her face with their nose. 

“Eugh!  _ Sister Aphmau!? _ Who-”

“It’s me! Lowell! Don’t you...remember?”

Of course she remembered, but he had been but a lanky young pup just a few months ago! And his coat had been thick and grey, but the werewolf before her was sleek and white.

“Lowell - but your fur - your…  _ you’re so big!”  _

“We grow fast,” he yipped, tail high. “Wolf pups tend to have the same, or at least similar coats, but as they grow they change! I’m the first albino to emerge in a few years.”

He puffed out his chest. 

“I - wow!”

She wasn’t used to seeing Lowell so…  _ regal.  _ But as she watched him, he seemed to sag under a hidden weight, and he lowered himself onto all four paws. 

“Why are you here? Is something the matter?” 

“Oh, Sister Aphmau,  _ everything’s  _ the matter! We’re at war with another wolf tribe - everything’s going wrong. Bodolf was badly wounded defending us from the most recent attack and…” 

“Is Bodolf… dead!?” 

“Not yet. But it’s not long before… He’s beyond healing from our own methods. Bodolf needs a human healer, and the only one I know is Kiki… other than, well,  _ you.”  _

“What about Bright Port? Are you still at war with them?” 

“No, no, there’s now a peace treaty in place. Can I - er - time is of the essence. Where is Kiki?” 

“I’ll take you to her. She sleeps in the upstairs loft of the barn.”

She led the wolf up the stairs, watching how the long claws of his paw gripped the ladder rungs, hauling himself up. It felt strange to see the young pup that she had rescued so long ago as an adult, and a powerful one at that. As he crawled onto the loft, the sun hit his arched back, making it glow.

There was a bed against the window, but Kiki had fallen off sometime during her nap, and she lay, tangled in her blanket and the hay strewn around the loft. She seemed so peaceful, red hair nearly falling out of its plait. Looking at her, all Aphmau could picture was Zane’s letter.

_ Give Kiki a goodbye kiss from me.  _

Had Kiki fallen for  _ Zane?  _

Or had Zane simply taken a liking to her?

She hated that she would probably never know or understand what was between them.

Aphmau hated to wake Kiki up, seeming so blissful, but she got to her knees and shook Kiki gently. 

“Eh…” 

“Kiki?” 

“Huh…?” 

She was still drowsy from sleep, but she stretched out, hands grasping at the hay. She sat up, realising that she was on the floor, and let out a muffled groan.

“Oh… damn it…” 

“Kiki, it’s me, Aphmau.” 

“Aphmau?” Kiki rubbed her face feebly. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?” 

“Someone’s here to see you.” 

Lowell dropped onto all fours and padded to Kiki, pressing his nose to her cheek fondly. “Hello, sister.” 

Kiki jumped as he emerged, then gripped his fur tightly. “Oh, Lowell, it’s you! I - look at your fur! I never would’ve guessed you’d be an albino.” 

“It’s good to see you!” His tail wagged slightly, then fell. “I’m sorry to visit under such circumstances, but… Kiki, the tribe needs your help. Bodolf needs your help.” 

“Bodolf? What’s happened!?”

She seemed to blink away her sleep, fully alert and concerned for the tribe leader. “Bodolf?” 

“I know you have a strange history, but… he needs you. We’re at war with another tribe, and he’s been defending us more than he should and… he paid the price. We need a human healer.”

“Me?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Bodolf… needs me?” 

She seemed suddenly confused, and swayed where she sat. Aphmau braced her with a hand on her back, brows scrunching. “Kiki?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I just… don’t feel well. I've had this awful headache.” She shuddered delicately.

“Your scent is so different,” Lowell put in, ears flattening. “Strange. I hate to ask this of you, but…” 

“Of course I’ll come. How could I abandon a friend in need?” With Aphmau’s help, she managed to stand. “Can he spare a day for us to travel?” 

Lowell thought for a moment, then bowed his head. “I’ll hurry back tonight and tell Bodolf that help is on the way.” 

Lowell gave them a long look of thanks, then turned and disappeared down the ladder. They listened to his pawsteps breaking into a run downstairs until they faded.

Kiki grasped Aphmau’s hands. Her forehead was damp with sweat, and she seemed strangely pale. “Aphmau… I don’t think... I can’t do this alone.”

She seemed terrified. At that moment, Aphmau was not a lord, but a friend. “Do you need me to travel with you?” 

“I hate to ask…” 

“Of course, Kiki, I’ll come with you.” 

“I… don’t feel well…” 

“We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning,” Aphmau assured her, guiding her back to her bed and wrapping the blanket around her gently. “Rest, Kiki. I can tell you need it.” 

“Thank you.” Kiki clutched at her head feebly. “Go and organise Phoenix Drop. I’ll… just… be here…” 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Just let me sleep.” 

“Send for me if you need me, okay?” 

“I… mmf…” 

Aphmau watched Kiki curl into her blankets with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Let that go! Grey wind,  _ give. Give!”  _

Garroth watched Brian, trying to tug a diamond from his dog’s jaws. 

“A little more muscle would be appreciated, Brian,” Garroth muttered pointedly, hefting his pickaxe. 

“Sorry, sir! Grey Wind stole a diamond.”

“Don’t let him swallow it.” 

Brian patted Grey Wind’s scruff fondly, eyeing him carefully. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” 

  
  


He hadn’t seen Aphmau or Laurance. His heart sang to  _ do something. _

_ Something’s wrong. Something’s happening.  _

He didn’t trust Laurance with her, alone, even if Aphmau did… but she had ordered him to wait. How long would he wait before blood was on his hands? Would he wait for her forever? 

He clenched the pickaxe. He had begun by patrolling the outskirts of town, waiting for them to return, and when it became apparent that the woods were silent, he had dragged Brian to help him restore the plaza. 

_ She has to be fine. She has to be okay.  _

He was almost worried enough to forget that he had violated his own moral code by taking his helm off. He shouldn't have given in, even if his mind was screaming,  _ get out, get out, get out.  _

_ Almost.  _

He wouldn’t forget seeing his own face reflected in Laurance’s blue eyes. That bastard had seen him. Seen him, freckles and all, caught like a deer in the firelight. The worst thing, though, was that for a moment, there seemed to be some kind of mutual understanding between them, an acknowledgement of some hidden secret Garroth hadn’t dared to admit to himself. 

As if to say,  _ you, too?  _

It was all down to pure chance, the stars aligning for Garroth to be in the room when his sight would be restored, but it still felt like a strict curse. It had shaken him to be  _ seen  _ by someone other than Aphmau, someone other than the people of Phoenix Drop who didn’t seem to truly see him at all, even when his helm was off. 

It frightened him.

He hated it, and he hated Laurance even more.

One swing, and he cast the thoughts out of his mind. Another, and he was content to never confront Laurance about that particular incident ever again. 

_ Do you really have freckles I can trace like constellations!? _

Idiot. 

Brian watched Garroth for a moment, then tried to copy his actions, but it was clear that he was struggling to handle his pickaxe. 

“You need more control up here,” Garroth said, and froze.

  
  


_ Zenix was a lanky teenager, fumbling his bow and arrow.  _

_ “You need more control up here.” _

_ Garroth put a hand on his shoulder, guiding his arm back.  _

_ “I can’t - hold it - how am I supposed to control this?”  _

_ Too soon, he loosened the arrow, and watched it fly into the woods despairingly. _

_ “You missed,” Garroth said dryly. Zenix peered up at him, eyes burning with an intense desire to prove himself. He wanted to fulfill what he knew he was capable of, and Garroth understood that kind of ambition. He lifted his helm, slightly, so that Zenix could see him smiling. _

_ “I’m proud of you, brother,” Garroth said, patting the teen comfortingly. “I know that you can do this.”  _

_ Zenix’s eyes narrowed. “It feels like I’ll never be good at anything.”  _

_ He threw his bow to the ground.  _

_ Garroth snorted in disbelief.“I’ve seen your hand to hand combat skills. Close range battle is clearly your strongest skill set, so don’t go blabbering that you’re no good at anything when the evidence is right there. Archery is a difficult skill to learn. It will take some time, no matter who you are.”  _

_ Zenix straightened slightly. He reached down, and picked up his bow.  _

_ “Ready to try again?”  _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

  
  


“Garroth.” 

It was not Brian’s voice that shook him out of the memory. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and into the plaza slunk Laurance. 

Garroth was surprised to find him sneaking around with his tail between his legs, when he was usually so cocky. He focused on his face - stained red, eyes bloodshot. 

Tear-streaked cheeks. His fluffy brown hair was askew, peppered with leaves and dirt. 

The man had been crying. 

Garroth was almost too shocked to sneer. He supposed that, whilst he could laugh and joke about Laurance being sensitive, he had never imagined him crying. 

It was then that he realised that Laurance was alone. Wholly and utterly alone. All thoughts of sympathy emptied from his mind.

“Where is she!?” 

Brian jumped as Garroth lunged for Laurance and instantly grabbed his chest, shaking him. “What have you done!? Where is Aphmau!?” 

“I didn’t -” 

“What did you do to her?!” 

“Get off me, asshole!” Laurance snapped, voice crackling, shoving back at him. “I didn’t hurt her, I don’t know where she is! She left!” 

“You-” 

Brian left, Grey Wind scampering behind him. 

“Where’s Aphmau!?” 

“I thought she went back to you!” 

“Obviously she didn’t!” 

“Nice observation, dumbass!” 

“You little-” 

“Stop it!”

Aphmau shrieked as she stumbled down the stairs, dragging them away from each other. “What in Irene are you two playing at!? I’m  _ here!”  _

“Why - where -” 

“I’ve been with Kiki, you doofus!” She turned her attention to Laurance and faltered, obviously unsure of what to say in reaction to his fragile eyes and trembling face. Garroth guessed that she was trying not to pry, but her face was lit with concern. 

“Is everything… okay?” 

“It’s fine,” Laurance grunted. “Go on.” 

“I… have to go away for a while.” 

“What?” 

“Why?” 

“I have to go to Bright Port with Kiki.” 

Garroth could have sworn that a flicker of disappointment echoed across Laurance’s expression. Perhaps being separated from Meteli for so long had taken its toll on him.

“Do you have to go?” He sounded like a dog trailing after his owner. 

“Yes, but I’ll leave Phoenix Drop with Garroth.” 

“Oh,  _ joy _ .” 

“You won’t be so joyful while I’m in charge,” he sneered.

Aphmau turned to him, eyes scolding him. “And Levin will be safe with you, yeah?” 

“Of course he will. Laurance, on the other hand, I can’t guarantee…” 

“This has got to stop.” She looked to both of them, narrowing her eyes. “Garroth?” 

“Yes, milady?” 

“I want you to train with Laurance while I am away.” 

“ _ Train  _ with him? You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way he can…” He struggled for an excuse other than ‘ _ He makes me feel angry’.  _ “He can’t keep up with me.” 

“I’m right here, prick.” 

“I won’t do it.”

“This? This is exactly what I want gone by the time I get back,” Aphmau said. “Laurance, don’t look at me like that.”

“What? You’re talking about me like I’m not here!” 

“Garroth. You are to train with Laurance, and you are going to  _ bond _ . That’s an order.” 

“An order! You mean-” 

“An  _ order.”  _

Laurance kicked at the air, face bright red. “I can’t believe this.” 

“What? Scared I’ll kick your ass?” 

“Don't test me, _Garroth._ I'm in the mood to shut you up." 

“Just you wait.”

Laurance’s smile was strained, but it was a promise nonetheless. 

Garroth inclined his head, a silent invitation. 

_ Bite me.  _

  
  



	9. episode nine

  
  


_Aphmau couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. A piece of the world had been fractured, but she couldn’t find the break. Laurance, Kiki, Garroth, Phoenix Drop itself - she couldn’t understand how they were connected to the strange gut feeling that pulled at her. She was alert, and with every passing moment she thought that leaving her town would be a dangerous idea._

_But for Kiki…_

_She would have to go._

_“You have to promise me you won’t kill each other,” she said, glaring at Garroth. They stood on the path leading down to the beach. “While I’m gone. That is_ **_also_ ** _an order.”_

_“You don’t really think that I would-”_

_She simply narrowed her eyes._

_“Fine. I can’t deny that I… have some suspicions against him. Even when he was blind, I was hesitant to have him anywhere near you. But now…”_

_“Just say it.”_

_“You can’t forget that Laurance is still a Shadow Knight. One who has yet to… kill a Lord to obtain true power. You’re a Lord. After everything, can you guarantee that he won’t lose himself and find you, to… to…”_

_“Kill me.”_

_“Well, yeah, I - I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, I guess. Maybe his intentions are pure, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m still your guard, no matter what.”_

_“You are also my friend,” she said, and hugged him tightly. “Please try to respect my wishes. I really really want both of you to… to work together.”_

_“I can’t see us getting along any time soon. We’re like… me and Laurance, I just don’t think we can fit. He’s just… ugh.” She actually laughed as he shuddered._

_“You sound like a toddler complaining because he stole your toy.”_

_“I- do- not!”_

_“Kinda. Now, as for my departure...”_

_“The boat is prepared for you, and Kiki is waiting at the docks.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_She had the feeling that he was blushing under the helm, and laughed. It was almost amusing how he was determined to hate Laurance - almost, if they weren’t killing each other. She wondered what was so infuriating about Laurance in the first place - it had to be deeper than his duty as a guard to protect her, right?_

_“I’ll talk to Laurance,” she said kindly._

_Laurance himself was sitting with Cadenza in the garden outside of her house, cross-legged and looking far more relaxed than he had been the day before. His eyes still seemed haunted, and Aphmau had pressed for answers, but if there was something wrong, he wasn’t admitting it._

_“Your boy here is very sweet,” he said. He bounced Levin, who cooed happily in his arms. Despite his melancholy, he seemed pleased to be able to see Aphmau’s son, blonde hair curly and eyes bright._

_Cadenza was sitting close by, a white and brown dog curled in her lap peacefully. “Shh,” she whispered. “You’ll wake Cookie.”_

_Aphmau kept her voice low as she knelt next to Laurance, kissing Levin’s forehead fondly. “I’m about to leave.”_

_“Ah.” He grasped her arm. “You’ll come back as soon as you’re done, though?”_

_“Of course I’ll come back. Do you really think I’d leave you?”_

_“Well-”_

_“I would never. I need you.”_

_He seemed to darken at that, giving her a sad look that she couldn’t interpret._

_“So… Laurance, I’d feel bad not talking to you about this. But Garroth is concerned about-”_

_“About me. Of course he is.” He rolled his eyes._

_“Listen. Have you had any strange feelings, urges, anything at all of malicious intent? Have you thought about… hurting me... at all? Even against your will.”_

_“No. Never.”_

_“Nothing like a Shadow Knight?”_

_“No. This is Garroth we’re talking about.”_

_“I just want to make sure.”_

_“Garroth won’t approach me about this himself, but he’s concerned I’ll turn into a monster. Yeah. Sure. I have plenty to thank him for, and plenty to hate him for. But if you… if you… if you want me to, I’ll leave. It was nice to have a place to call home for a little while, but if you feel… scared of me… I’ll…”_

_“No. Don’t you dare leave. I just had to make sure.”_

_“I can go.”_

_“Not at all.”_

_“I-”_

_“Laurance, you are only to leave if you begin feeling unlike yourself. If you feel yourself becoming more like a Shadow Knight, then I have to ask… if only to protect Phoenix Drop.”_

_“I’ll do it for you. But not for him.” He jerked his head in Garroth’s direction, scowling. “But I feel fine.”_

_“I’ve already asked Garroth, but I was serious about you two working together. I can’t really order_ **_you_ ** _to do anything, but still… it’d really make me feel better if you helped each other to take care of Phoenix Drop. Do some patrols. Train. I don’t mind. Just…”_

_“You want me to pretend?”_

_“It’d be nice if you could actually stand to be around him, but… y’know… whatever stops you from killing each other is good with me.”_

_“For you, Aphmau, I will.”_

_She hugged Levin, and then Laurance; his hands grasped her back, terrified to let go._

_“Be safe,” he whispered._

_“Always. I’ll be back in a few days. I’m only escorting Kiki there and back.”_

_“Bye.”_

_She hugged Garroth one last time as she passed him, and he bowed deeply to her. “Goodbye, milady. Come back to us safely.”_

_“I will. I promise”_

_She could only pray that she would be able to keep such a promise._

  
  


* * *

“I’m only doing this for her,” Garroth snarled. “I have no interest in playtime with Laurance.”

“Ouch. Are you sure? I _can_ be very playful.” 

“I don’t think you want to know just how playful I can be.” Garroth lifted his sword to Laurance, who held an emerald blade. Garroth was aware that Laurance wasn’t a stranger to battle, being a former guard of Meteli, but he wasn’t yet feeling threatened. He wasn’t exactly _buff._

He had taken them into a clearing into the woods, strategically so that the loser would not be publicly humiliated - Garroth would at least spare Laurance that, since he already seemed rather upset with whatever was bothering him, and being ridiculed seemed like rubbing salt in his wounds. And if Garroth, by some slim chance, lost, then the only person to gloat would be Laurance himself.

Laurance stretched, running his hands through his short hair. “If you want to beat me up, then get on with it.” 

“Aphmau ordered us to get along,” Garroth said. “This is a little exercise I like to call _bonding.”_

“I get the feeling that we’re not going to bond.”

“Interestingly enough, I agree with you, for once. But we can at least pretend to respect Aphmau’s orders, yes?” 

Laurance scowled. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

As dismissive as he seemed, Garroth secretly admitted that he would, too.

Laurance adjusted his tank top, seeming uncomfortable. “This seems unfair. You’re fully armoured.” 

“Why do you think I dragged us all the way out here?” 

“To avoid being humiliated by the people of Phoenix Drop?”

“Pfft. No.” 

_Yeah, pretty much._

He tugged off his helmet, then took off his armour. He had dressed in a tank top and pants in preparation for their ‘training’, keeping himself warm in the chilled weather despite his armour being warm enough to combat it. Laurance blinked, apparently surprised, then shrugged lazily. 

“Trying to distract me with those freckles, I see.” 

That was the second time that Garroth had been seen by Laurance, and it filled him with a stirring feeling of hatred. This time, he had willed it and invited it voluntarily. He pulled his blond curls back into a bun and glared at Laurance, whose brown skin was dappled with patches of sunlight leaching through the trees.

“Keep talking.”

“Like constellations, if I recall correctly.” 

“Oh?” 

“Maybe if we come back at night, I can see your eyes _smokey grey in the moonlight!”_

Garroth swung. 

In a flash of metal, Laurence's sword raised to meet him and shoved, and Garroth was momentarily surprised by the strength rippling through his opponent. 

_Okay. So he’s not as weak as he looks. I can still take him._

It was almost unnatural how Laurance swung in an upward curve, fluid and perfectly balanced. He straightened, sword gripped beside him, waiting for Garroth to approach. 

“Scared?” he taunted. 

“You wish.” 

For the first time, a flicker of fear haunted Garroth. Either he had simply underestimated Laurance, or he was _stronger_ as a Shadow Knight, or at least half of one. 

He lifted his sword. “I’ll show you _constellations_.” 

Pure anger fueled him, bracing himself into the grass. As Laurance leaped for him, emerald blade raised above his head, Garroth blocked it in midair and skidded into the dirt. “You-”

Laurance panted, lips curving into a smug smile. “Not so confident now, are you, freckles?” 

“You’re - you’re-” 

“Incredibly handsome? Yes, I am, thank you for noticing.” 

Another blow. Slash. The scream of their blades became familiar. The sky grew darker over their heads, then split with colour, a grey and auburn sunset springing to life above them. Garroth felt as if it was infinite, the loop that they were trapped in - Laurance taunting him, Garroth lashing out at him, over and over through the sound of steel, until neither of them seemed wholly focused on the battle. 

And as they went, Garroth realised with a flash of uncertainty that the fight was slowly becoming less and less coherent and organised and more… _wild_.

Laurance’s free hand grappled with Garroth’s, trying to wrestle his attention away from his blade. Garroth writhed, trying to escape, feet bumbling as he tried to trip his opponent.

With a sharp wail of a blade, Laurance’s sword nicked Garroth’s cheek, and a trickle of blood spattered down. His breathing grew heavy and he shoved back against Laurance, spitting curses. He kicked at Laurance’s stomach, sending him to the dirt, where he didn’t move.

“You fucking bastard!” Garroth spat, feeling his cheek gingerly and recoiling at the sting. “Agh.”

Laurance was struggling to breathe, and didn’t move for a few moments. Garroth kicked him.

“Get up.” 

After heartbeats of angry silence and choppy, unsteady breathing, Laurance hauled himself upwards, leaning on his hands braced behind him, eyes narrowed.

Garroth placed his sword to Laurance’s throat and bent down, smiling. “Do you forfeit?” 

“Forfeit? Now, why would I want to do that?” 

“To save yourself the embarrassment of losing?” 

“Fun fact, freckles. I never lose.”

He aimed a kick at Garroth’s sword and sent it into the air. Garroth lunged for Laurance and tackled him, but a knee to his gut sent him away, groaning, on the ground. “You- prick-” 

In one hand, Laurance gripped his own sword. In the other, he caught Garroth’s and twirled it lazily. 

Garroth rolled onto his back, chest heaving. Laurance straddled him, with a wide grin, and placed both blades against his neck. “Do you forfeit?” 

“Get off me,” he grunted, shoving Laurance off of him. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he sneered, straightening and brushing off his pants. His forehead was damp with sweat, and a small slice had been cut into his arm, dried blood crusted around it. Garroth didn’t even remember doing that, but with a flash of satisfaction, he was glad he did. With a shrug, Laurance stripped off his tank top and wrapped it around the wound.

“You’ve got a little something right here,” Laurance said smugly, motioning to his cheek. Garroth touched the smudged blood on his face. “Ooh, that’s a good one. Definitely gonna leave a scar.”

“Oh, _joy._ I’ll think of you every time I look at it.” 

“Good thoughts, I hope,” Laurance said, winking awkwardly. Garroth shuddered in disgust. 

“Never do that to me again.” 

“What, wink?” 

He did it again. 

Garroth put his head in his hands. “If that’s how you flirt with the women in Meteli, I pity them.” 

“They love it.” He motioned to his chest. “As you can see, my attractiveness just makes everyone swoon, effortlessly.” 

“Oh, Irene, stop that.” 

“They can’t resist!” Laurance flexed, obviously delighted by Garroth both flushing and fuming with irritation. “Neither can you, apparently.” 

“I would rather show my face to anyone and everyone than ever be attracted to _you_.” 

“Ah. Sweet denial.” 

“It’s not - you little-” 

“It’s almost cute how much you hate me, freckles,” Laurance said, stretching. 

“Puh-lease. You’ve probably never even had your first kiss, you’re so awkward.”

Laurance hesitated, a tiny flicker of worry, enough for Garroth to notice. 

“Oh, my Irene.”

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You…” He let out a cruel laugh of disbelief. “The casanova hasn’t had his first kiss.”

Garroth wasn’t willing to admit that he hadn’t, either. He had always been so distracted by his work, his job, his Lord, that he hadn’t paused to consider a relationship. That didn’t stop him from quietly yearning, but a gut feeling had always driven him to ignore any thoughts of pursuing actual _love._

He didn’t trust himself to love, anyway. 

Laurance picked up Garroth’s sword, inspected it, then tossed it to the ground in his general direction with distaste. “As if you can talk. No one wants to even go _near_ you with that mask on all the time. I _know_ they don’t.”

Garroth went deathly quiet. He had the strange impression that Laurance wasn’t even talking about his helm. This was a deeper mask that Laurance had recognised, and sensed vulnerability in because he shared the same insecurity. Garroth gritted his teeth. 

“See here, _Shadow Knight._ I don’t think you can compare yourself to me. We’re nothing alike; I’ll _never_ be like you.” 

Laurance narrowed his eyes. “Insult me all you want; I won’t deny that I haven’t exactly been the kindest man, either. I know you don’t trust me. I don’t trust myself. But I’m more than just a Shadow Knight.” 

“That’s true,” Garroth admitted. “You’re a Shadow Knight who hasn’t had his first kiss.” 

The rage fizzing in Laurance’s eyes flickered, and he actually laughed, seeming faintly amused. “If you tell anyone at all, I won’t hesitate to beat your ass again.” 

“What about Aphmau?” 

“She already knows.” 

_Ugh. Of course she does._

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” 

Laurance merely sighed. 

“And you’re an entitled coward. I _think_ that makes even.” 

Unfortunately, in Garroth’s logic, it did. Not for the first time, he hated how Laurance _saw_ him, even when his mask was on. Perhaps Laurance felt the same way about him. He grumbled under his breath as he stood to retrieve his sword.

“Oh, and freckles, don’t feel bad for losing to a _Shadow Knight_. Feel bad because you lost to a Shadow Knight who hasn’t had his first kiss.”

Garroth barked out a rough laugh. “Don’t get too comfortable. I still might find an excuse to send you back to the Nether.”

Garroth collected his armour and suited himself up, piece by piece, until the helm was covering the scar along his cheek. Slowly, Laurance got to his feet, scowling. 

“You can kill me, beat me. You can do anything to hurt me. But I will never go to Hell again.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The days passed in a routine that Laurance, despite himself, appreciated. His emotions, seemingly volatile, were grateful for the distraction that Garroth provided - every evening, when dusk fell upon them, the pair would fight. Laurance, whether he won or lost, enjoyed any opportunity to provoke and tease Garroth, and the thrill of any battle allowed him to escape his own mind. All he would think about was how to both defeat Garroth, and taunt the most entertaining reactions from him. 

Aphmau would be disappointed. They hadn’t bonded, and they certainly hadn’t stopped trying to kill each other. Only this time, it was consensual. 

Through the Autumn days, he would wait restlessly for evening. Sometimes, he would disappear to Ungrth’s grave and sit, quietly, in the dirt. On his back, in the silence, and no one would search for him. 

Others, Garroth would hand him a pickaxe and curse in his direction until he helped to dig up the diamonds in the plaza. Young Brian followed Garroth everywhere, and his dog too, by extension. 

“You’ve got a shadow there,” Laurance would say, raising his brows. Garroth would simply give him a middle finger and keep working, and both of them would have to pretend to not hear Brian’s stifled laughter. It became regular. One day, grave. One day, work. It kept Laurance focused on something, anything other than the truth. 

Still, he missed Aphmau. He wanted her home, desperately, to confide in and to simply be _there._ Safe. Content. 

Days passing turned into a week, then two. Then another. Almost a month.

No Aphmau.

It was the coldest dusk that Phoenix Drop had felt in a while, and Laurance shivered in his tank top, leaning against a tree, foot tapping the ground. He inspected the cut that he had received in their first fight - it had turned into a nice scar cupping his upper arm, slightly healed. He couldn’t wait to show Aphmau - 

_Damn it._

Thinking about her was a curse, because he would instantly think about how he hated to be apart from her. His gut screamed of danger. It had been weeks. Where was she? Had something happened to her? 

_Perhaps I should find her, to make sure…_

Garroth would never allow it, so Laurance would have to find a way to evade the Head Guard. 

Speaking of Garroth himself, he was stupidly late for their evening fight. It was dark. The first star had peeked out into the sky. Laurance cursed him, and Aphmau.

He waited for a few more minutes, then gave up, breaking from his quiet vigil against the tree. 

_That idiot had better have a good excuse, or he’s dead._

Fuming, he stomped back into Phoenix Drop, down the path, up to Aphmau’s house. Zoey had been taking good care of it, and its residents, and he noticed her on the swing with Levin, rocking him back and forth in her lap, illuminated by the glow of a lamp keeping watch over the garden. She would no doubt head inside soon, now that the sky was growing dark. 

Laurance happened to glance at the beach. A ship was at the docks, with a dark figure walking to it. His instincts jolted him into a run. 

_If Garroth won’t do his job, then I will._

From behind him, Zoey’s greeting was stifled by surprise as he jogged away. 

He stumbled onto the sand, and the fresh moonlight hit the stranger’s face as they turned from the deck of the boat to face him.

_Garroth._

“Freckles!? For Irene’s sake, _what_ are you doing?” 

“What does it look like?”

“It _looks_ like you’re going after Aphmau. Without me.”

“Why would I _invite_ you?” 

“You didn’t turn up to fight me, so I…” Laurance heard himself, and cleared his throat. For a moment, he seemed like he depended wholly on Garroth, and that was idiotic. 

Garroth was unmasked, but wearing his uniform, so Laurance could fully see his blond hair, loose and curly, and his blue eyes.

No, _grey_. 

“Like smoke,” he muttered under his breath, and scowled. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Like Hell you are.”

“You’re abandoning Phoenix Drop for Aphmau and expect me _not_ to come along?” 

“I was _hoping_ that I’d get away before you came sniffing down here, but it’s too late for that.” 

“Garroth. Come on.” 

The Guard paused. 

“You know that you’ll find her so much quicker with me.”

“You’ll also be a pain in my ass.” 

“That’s a given,” Laurance said with a shrug, standing at the edge of the docks. “Think of it this way; if you leave without me right now, I’ll simply get my own boat and follow you, and I will be a lot worse to deal with than if you just let me on _your_ boat.”

“Oh, Irene, don’t let me regret this.” He stood aside, allowing Laurance access to the ladder dangling over the side. “If you cause even _one_ problem, I will not hesitate to drop kick you off this ship faster than you can say ‘freckles’.” 

As Laurance hauled himself up, he allowed himself a wary grin. “Consider myself warned. Now, _freckles,_ let’s find your Lord.” 

_Oh, Irene, let her be okay._


	10. episode ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emetophobia warning for this chapter! <3

  
  


“I am  _ not  _ seasick,” Garroth snapped, shooing Laurance away with a snarl. Laurance hopped around him, gleeful despite the circumstances. His mood had rapidly improved since boarding the ship to Bright Port, and nothing felt more like home than the sea spray and wind buffeting him as they sailed peacefully into the ocean. Garroth, evidently, felt the opposite. He hadn’t worn his helm once since boarding the ship, and it was strange to see him so open about his identity around Laurance. That hadn’t stopped his illness, though.

Laurance couldn’t deny that he was enjoying seeing Garroth so disgruntled, but even seasickness couldn’t dim his hatred, and he was just as determined to keep Laurance away from him. 

“Right. You’re only vomiting for fun. Right. I forgot that you enjoy pain.” Laurance raised a brow suggestively. 

“I don’t - enjoy pain.” His reply was through gritted teeth. “I enjoy peace and quiet, neither of which seem to be in your vocabulary.”

“I’m only trying to help! I’m like… your  _ doctor _ . When you feel sick, I help you. You know?” 

“The only thing making me sick is you.” 

“Ouch! Right where it hurts.” 

He eyed the slice on Garroth’s cheek; it had scarred up nicely. “Aw, a boo-boo! Do you want doctor Laurance to kiss it better?”

“If you put your lips on me, I  _ will  _ throw you off the ship.” 

Laurance laughed coldly. “Fine. Enjoy being ill. I had a remedy in mind, but if you’re going to be so uptight…” 

Laurance turned to head below deck with a shrug. He sensed Garroth stirring behind him, clutching his stomach. He was in the doorway when the voice rang from behind him.

“Wait.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I… a remedy?” 

“If I was feeling generous, I might tell you. But alas, you’ve hurt my feelings too many times.”

“Don’t be a dick. Just tell me.” He got to his feet, trying to stagger towards him. 

“Stay there, you idiot, you’re in no condition to prance around making a remedy.  _ Stay _ .”

“I’m not your  _ dog,”  _ Garroth hissed. He had the audacity to look wounded as he added,  _ “and I don’t prance.”  _

“Sure you don’t,” Laurance said, and disappeared into the kitchen, hunting in the pantry for what he’d need.

_ Half of this stuff must be ancient. I might accidentally make Garroth more sick.  _

He considered it, then kept rummaging. 

_ Eh. He’ll live.  _

He found his prize - ginger. 

Laurance had been extremely sickly as a child, and Joh had soothed his violent stomach with ginger and an array of herbs and wildflowers. It was part of the reason that he had grown to be so lanky. His regular illnesses soon faded with the help of his adopted father. Of course, he couldn’t find any of those plants in the middle of the ocean, but there  _ was  _ ginger. 

He began by boiling water, and as he went he hummed, falling into a familiar pattern. 

  
  


_ He was smaller than the other children in Meteli, and that made him a target. One of the older boys threw stones at Laurance, and one had hit him on his side. It hadn’t bled, and Laurance had convinced himself that, despite the sting, he would be fine.  _

_ But then the ache set in, and a giant, vibrant bruise blossomed to life on his hip. It hurt like Hell.  _

_ He had already picked up the clever skill of lying, and Joh, whilst clever, never found out. Laurance blamed his limping on tripping into a hole, afraid to blame the other children lest they twist the tale and manipulate Laurance into the villain. He had no intention of being a villain. _

_ But he couldn’t hide things from Cadenza.  _

_ “I’ll kill them all!” she exploded, peering at the bruise on his side. “I’ll beat them up until they wish they’d never met us!” _

_ They were sitting outside in the tall grass, picking flowers and herbs and putting them into a kindly woven wicker basket for Joh to use in his medicines. That wasn’t his work, but he seemed to enjoy healing. Cadenza stomped the ground, spitting and cursing those boys. Laurance was alarmed by her foul language. _

_ “It’s not right to swear!”  _

_ “What, because I’m a  _ **_lady?”_ ** _ Her eyes blazed. Some of the adults would coo over Cadenza, prancing around in her long, flowing skirts that she had sewed herself and scold her for fighting in them.  _

_ “It’s not right for a little lady to ruin such a beautiful dress!”  _

_ “What’s a dress for if it's not meant to be worn and used and loved!?” she would argue. _

_ Cadenza had quite the temper, but Laurance privately agreed with her. Laurance tended to be quite withdrawn at the time, and looked up from his investigation of a timid beetle hiding in the grass. “No, because Joh wouldn’t like it.” _

_ That made her hesitate.  _

_ “I’ll still beat them up,” she said, cracking her small knuckles. “And I’ll wear a dress as I do it.” _

_ Laurance had to admire her for that.  _

_ “Can you make me a dress?” _

_ “Why do you need one?” Her eyes glowed in excitement.  _

_ “So I can help you… you know, fight those boys that hurt me. I’m gonna train, so I can be big and strong, and I won’t have to hide anymore.”  _

_ She eyed him, then grinned.  _

_ “I’ll make you a green gown,” she vowed. “To match your eyes.” _

  
  


His eyes were no longer green. They were dark blue. But he was sure that Cadenza still had that tiny dress somewhere, dirty and muddied from both their play fights and their real ones. 

The ginger tea was done, but Laurance realised that he had been standing, smelling the hot fumes wafting up from the cup for too long, deep in his memories. The ginger tea seemed to stir up the past. He still had the faintest white mark on his hip from that particular stone, and he had carried it with him for his whole life. Often, he looked down at it with disgust - others, with satisfaction. 

Shaking himself out of the memory, he carried the cup outside to find Garroth being sick over the side of the ship. 

“Aw, damn,” he said, holding the cup in one hand. 

“Not - a - word,” Garroth groaned, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. As he moved alongside him, he evaded Garroth swatting at him. 

“Hold still, you idiot!”

“Grr-” 

He retched again. Laurance pulled his hair back into a ponytail and held it there. Garroth was evidently too ill to speak or protest, and leaned against the side of the ship. He seemed…  _ frail.  _ Laurance was unfamiliar with such a quiet, cooperative Head Guard. 

The waters calmed over the next hour, with Laurance swearing until Garroth sipped at his tea and Garroth trying to shoo his ‘doctor’ away, to no avail. 

Finally, Garroth pulled himself upright, shakily, but eyes determined. “Let go.”

Laurance shrugged. “You good?” 

“I’m  _ fine.”  _

“I didn’t take you for the seasickness type.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He took the mug from Laurance and drank deeply. “Irene, my head…”

After a moment of silence, Laurance stepped away, questioning himself.

_ Ugh. I touched him.  _

He had before, but it was all in the name of annoying the Hell out of him. This was…  _ helpful. _

Garroth had evidently had the same thought, as his fingers were running through his hair, scowling. “Do you remember what I said about drop-kicking you off the ship?”

“That you’d love to?” 

“That I  _ would,  _ if you were a pain in my ass. If your filthy hands are on my head again, I swear I’ll throw you off-”

“I can swim,” Laurance interrupted, shrugging. “I’ll just come back and become increasingly more annoying every time.”

“You can get  _ more  _ annoying? A miracle, honestly.” He was muffled by a groan. “Can this headache just fuck off for  _ five minutes?”  _

Their last hour or so was spent in tense, unhappy silence, in which Laurance would have rather been anywhere but opposite Garroth, watching him bury his head in his hands, trying to fight his nausea as the waves slapped the ship, rocking it precariously.

In the distance, perched on a cliffside, Laurance spotted a blaze of shadow, the peak of Bright Port coming into view. “Thank Irene.” 

“What. What is it? Are we here?” 

“Yup…” 

“ _ Finally.  _ If I spend one more second on a boat with you, I might go crazy.”

“Crazy for me, you mean.” 

“Literally the opposite.”

With him trying to clear his head, Laurance was the one to dock the boat, and almost instantly, a blonde, armoured woman stepped down the stairway built into the cliff.

“Uh… Garroth?” 

“Mmm?” 

“We have company.” 

Garroth lifted his head. “It’s only Azura, she’s fine.”

“No,  _ look. _ ” 

“Damn it, Laurance, what-”

He straightened slightly. Carved into the cliff was a hollow space for a statue, depicting an armoured man with a staff, glowing with magic. The sun bathed it in a pale glow. 

“Am I dumb, or…” 

“You’re dumb, yes. But that statue...”

Azura was watching them with hawk eyes. Their gazes travelled upwards, to the top of the cliff, where the borders of Bright Port were being patrolled by familiar uniforms…

O’Khasis. 

“What are they doing here!?” Garroth spat, gripping the side of the boat. As the ship came to a rest, he gripped his stomach, trying to balance himself. After a moment to gather himself, he leaned over the edge of the ship.

“Azura! What’s going on here!?” 

“Hello, Garroth.” She seemed plenty familiar with him, and from her curt gaze, there was some kind of history between them. Laurance gritted his teeth, then cursed himself. 

Why did he care if Garroth had more past connections than Laurance, had more of a  _ life _ ? It wasn’t exactly a competition, but something in him roared to be better. To have more than castaway stones and green dresses. 

“It’s good to see you,” Garroth said awkwardly, perhaps trying to cover his illness or merely uncomfortable around her. Or both. “We just… passing through.” 

“Are you heading to the wolf village, too? Lord Aphmau came in weeks ago.” 

“Er… yes.” 

“I’m afraid that I couldn’t help you get there, even if I wanted to. We’re on the brink of war with Pikoro, and-” 

“Pikoro?” Laurance interrupted, ignoring a glare from Garroth. “What's going on over there?” 

“Lord Burt went to Pikoro with the intention of bringing peace to both towns. But he has not returned. It all comes back to O’Khasis.”

“O’Khasis,” said Garroth, struggling to keep himself calm. “Of course.” 

“Before all of this, Burt refused High Priest Zane’s invitation to join an alliance. Zane wished to show Burt how he could help Bright Port and sent guards and a member of the Jury to us, and now… with Burt missing, the guards have taken over. I have no power here, not anymore.” 

Her brows narrowed. 

“I can’t help you, Garroth.”

Laurance felt as if he was watching from a world away, through a thick sheet of glass, begging to be let in. 

“The guards make sure no one leaves. Go into the woods to the west; you have to pass without them seeing you.” She seemed to understand the power and danger that circled the O’Khasis guards. Laurance wondered which member of the Jury of Nine had been situated in Bright Port.

“Azura… thank you. Why would you warn us about this?” 

“My job has basically been…  _ forgotten _ . Ugh. I can’t do  _ nothing. _ The time we shared as children was special to me, and I’m grateful to have trained alongside you. I can repay you for that.”

“I… thank you.” Garroth was blushing. Laurance was trying hard not to laugh, but he gathered his self-control. 

“What about Aphmau?” he pressed. 

“Oh, I haven’t seen her for weeks, now. Either she managed to leave despite the Guards, or they’re holding her until she’s cleared.” 

Laurance turned to Garroth. “You know that girl. She’d find a way out.” 

Garroth frowned. “I hate to admit, but you’re right. We’ll have to travel through the woods.”

Azura nodded. “Be careful. And… I’ve already asked Aphmau, but if you are in Pikoro… if you find Burt, that’d be…”

“It’s the least we can do,” Garroth said, cheeks red. 

“Let’s dock further up along the cliff.”

“I can only name about a hundred ways  _ that  _ could go wrong.”

Azura watched their boat drift away. Laurance waited until she was out of earshot and spun to Garroth, who was evidently feeling better, laughing. “That was pathetic.”

“Alright, Mr  _ ‘I haven’t had my first kiss’,  _ calm down.”

“I’m honestly quite intrigued. There was so much to that conversation to unpack.” 

“You’re not  _ unpacking  _ anything.” 

“Good to see you’re feeling better.”

“Good enough to stop you from sniffing into my private conversations.” 

“You were pretty loud about it. I’m almost proud that you kept your mask off, too.” He did a slow, mocking clap.

“Yeah, well, it’s Azura. I grew up with her, so… she’s seen plenty of me.” He disappeared momentarily to fetch a sack of spare clothes and two apples. He tossed one to Laurance, who had waited patiently until he returned to reply.

“Azura seems to enjoy looking at plenty of you, too.”

Garroth spluttered as he climbed down the ladder, landing ungracefully onto the ground and rolling over, seeming grateful to be on dry land again. “That’s not - it’s not - like that.” 

“Do you not like her?”

“She’s nice.”

Laurance snorted. “Did she reject you? Aw, poor baby Garroth, facing his first rejection. How  _ sad.”  _

“I rejected her, actually,” Garroth spat. “Stop poking your nose into places where you don’t belong.” 

“Oh, freckles, do you  _ not  _ enjoy my company? You should have told me!”

“If your company means that you don’t shut up about a girl who had a crush on me when I was a kid, then no, I don’t enjoy your company at all.”

Laurance tied up the boat while Garroth rubbed his head, as if trying to coax the illness away.

And then they walked, silently agreeing to start navigating the woods while the sun was still high. Laurance quietly mulled over what he had learned through their brief conversations. 

_ Garroth grew up with Azura. Azura confessed - Garroth rejected her. From what he could gather, they had gone to Guard training together, and then he had left for Phoenix Drop. But there was no one in Phoenix Drop who Laurance had sensed a strange awkwardness from around Garroth… _

_ Interesting. _

“It must have been a nasty fight between you two,” he mused.

“No,  _ actually,  _ it wasn’t. We’re both too polite to cause a scene. It was just… she confessed. I bore no romantic feelings for her. I told her that. Things were… fine…”

“Extremely awkward, you mean,” Laurance corrected.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“What helps me sleep is knowing that the girls are just  _ throwing  _ themselves at you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Garroth grunted. “I believe it was  _ you  _ who said that no one would go  _ near  _ me with my mask!” 

He seemed somewhat wistful. It helped, being able to see his face, and his freckles crinkling as he spoke.

“True.” 

_ So Garroth has never had a relationship? That means… _

He tucked that information away for later. He had a feeling that he would need it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They had been travelling for a week. The Autumn nights grew colder and colder, and the tent that Garroth had set up was neither warm nor large enough to even support the both of them.

Both of them spent their nights shivering, far too stubborn to admit that not preparing for their trip had cost them.

_ That’s what we get for impulsive decisions, I suppose. _

Garroth was content to travel in silence, as if afraid that if he said anything, it would somehow awaken Laurance’s voice from its slumber. Laurance didn’t seem to mind it, at first, but Garroth soon realised that his rival could barely manage a few minutes without something to do. After a while, the dappled ginger scenery became far too familiar, and Garroth had to admit that he was bored, too.

“Wanna fight?” Laurance asked, balancing on his toes. Garroth’s sword was strapped against his back, and it felt heavier than usual, begging to be used. He gritted his teeth.

“No.” 

“I think we’re lost.”

“Then how will fighting fix that?” 

“I dunno, but I think beating your ass might actually help!” 

“Your logic is… severely flawed.” 

“ _ You’re  _ severely flawed,” Laurance muttered, dancing around the clearing and kicking fallen leaves into the air, some of them fluttering close to Garroth’s face. 

“Do you mind?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Insufferable.”

_ “Boring.”  _

“I’ll show you  _ boring.”  _

Their bickering carried on into the night, until Garroth shouted that he had had enough, and if Laurance uttered one more word he would be promptly killed and thrown into the ocean. 

They had given up on using the tent as an actual shelter; Garroth wrapped the tent cover over himself as a blanket, while Laurance insisted that he would be using his jacket to avoid what he had dubbed ‘Garroth cooties.’

A true miracle, Laurance had fallen asleep early for once, and a warm silence enveloped them. Finally, staring up at the stars, he had only his own mind to greet him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


_ It was all fake. Another hallucination. Another nightmare. _

_ He was blind, and he knew it. _

_ The vision, the sight, was only temporary, and he knew it. He would be lured into thinking it was real, only for it to be torn away.  _

_ He knew the routine by now. _

_ In his hallucination, it was not Aphmau that stood before him, but Garroth. Unmasked. Only wearing a tank top and pants, and a sword gripped in one hand. His grim, set line of his lips was familiar, not allowing Laurance the satisfaction of being amused by his antics. It was… real…  _

_ Could Laurance dare to hope…? _

_ “Well? What are you waiting for?”  _

_ “Am I out?”  _

_ “Eh?”  _

_ “Am I out. Of the Nether. Is this… are you…”  _

**_Real?_ **

_ Garroth gave that steady, mocking laugh. “What are you on about? Are you stupid? Why wouldn’t you be real?” _

_ “I don’t think I am,” he confessed. _

_ “I’ll prove it,” Garroth said. “I’ll prove that you’re safe, with me.” _

**_With you?_ **

**_Safe_ ** _ and  _ **_Garroth_ ** _ didn’t seem like they would go together. Garroth lifted his sword, and tenderly traced a line down Laurance’s arm, and both of them watched the blood spill with vivid curiousity. It dripped onto the grass. _

_ Laurance whined in pain. Yes, the sting was real. His heart racing in… anticipation? What was this burst of nerves? That was real, too.  _

_ Garroth raised his sword, now tipped with blood.  _

_ “Will you fight me now?” He smiled and it was not cruel or mocking. It was gentle. It seemed different, and wrong, and nothing like Garroth. _

_ Still, Laurance felt his arm throbbing. He had seen the blood, touched it with his fingertips.  _

_ Real, real, real.  _

_ The fight began as normal. Laurance was so utterly focused on the battle at hand, defending each blow from Garroth eagerly, that he didn’t notice the clearing go silent, as if nature was watching them closely.  _

_ No bickering. Just heavy breathing and the sound of metal on metal.  _

_ With a sharp yell of victory, Garroth managed to kick Laurance’s sword away, leaving him weaponless. _

_ “How did this go last time?” Garroth panted. “Remind me.”  _

_ “I won,” Laurance said, laughing giddily. “I pressed both my blade and yours to your neck.” _

_ “Like this?” _

_ Garroth straddled him, and held his diamond sword to Laurance’s neck, eyes gleaming. The cool metal forced a giggle out of him, an unfamiliar noise, and he inclined his chin to it.  _

_ Real?  _

_ It didn’t seem real. But just because it was new and exciting, didn’t mean he had to hate it, right? He seemed to like this feeling.  _

_ Garroth leaned forward. His eyes were smokey grey in the moonlight.  _

_ That struck a chord deep within Laurance, but he couldn’t place it.  _

**_This feels… okay._ **

_ He liked ‘okay’.  _

_ “Okay, you can get up now,” he said, shoving at Garroth playfully. But the man sat there, blinking innocently.  _

_ “Let me up.” _

_ The weight on his chest seemed to grow.  _

_ “Garroth.”  _

_ “Garroth, dude, c’mon.”  _

_ “Let me up.”  _

_ “Please.”  _

_ The sword on his neck was replaced with a hand, squeezing his throat playfully. Laurance spluttered.  _

_ This was an unfamiliar game. Garroth always let him up in the end. Even when he lost.  _

_ “I want to see how much you can take,” Garroth mused, showing his teeth.  _

_ That damn smile.  _

_ The hand squeezed.  _

_ Laurance scraped and grasped weakly at Garroth’s wrist, but he withstood his efforts, with soft cooing noises. “Why don’t you stop resisting?” _

_ “I- I- I-”  _

_ Garroth tightened his grip.  _ _   
  
_

_ “Don’t fucking move a muscle. And don’t scream, hmm?”  _

_ He lifted his sword.  _

_ “Where should I start? Hmm? How about…”  _

_ He tore Laurance’s shirt and traced a tentative, soft line with his blade down his chest. Enough for the blood to well up. Garroth’s face split with delight. _

_ “Shall I go lower?”  _

_ Laurance writhed in pain, letting out gasping noises. The sword travelled lower and dug, pushing into his stomach.  _

_ “I said,  _ **_don’t fucking move!”_ **

__

_ Laurance froze.  _

_ Terror. Complete and utter terror.  _

**_It wasn’t real. Nothing ever was._ **

**_Don’t move don’t move don’t move_ **

_ “That’s better. Geez, don’t you ever do what you’re told?” _

_ Another mark, across his face. The blood dribbled onto his lips and chin. _

**_No no no no no no_ **

_ Laurance kicked, and caught Garroth in the stomach, knocking him away only for a brief moment.  _

_ He scrambled across the grass, blood spilling. His limbs - they wouldn’t work.  _

**_Please please please please please_ **

**_Move move move move_ **

_ Arms wrapped around his legs and began to drag him back.  _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Garroth only had the tiniest whine to warn him. 

_ A good guard always sleeps with one eye open. _

He sat up, half asleep, wondering if he had imagined it. Another whine, from Laurance, curled underneath his jacket. 

_ He’s dreaming. How  _ **_cute_ ** _. _

The clearing erupted in shrieks. 

Laurance, writhing and crying, stumbling across the grass. He blindly kicked out at the air. 

Then he was running.

Garroth’s guard instincts carried him onwards. With a huff, he bolted from his makeshift blanket and lunged; he tackled Laurance, and instantly, the screaming grew louder. Panicked cries with no true words, but Garroth could understand a sense of begging from the man.

“Stop- stop- stop!” 

Legs flailed and kicked into his stomach.

His hands wrestled Laurance's flapping wrists to the ground and he dug his knee into his chest. “For Irene’s sake, it’s me!”

Laurance could not attack, but he simply trembled there, hardly breathing, choked with tears and unable to form words. 

“Stop it,” snapped Garroth, frustration and exhaustion making him crueler than he intended. “Stop it. Breathe, for Irene’s sake.” 

Garroth couldn't shake the sound of his haunted shrieks. 

Laurance rasped something unintelligible. Garroth sat there, holding him down, panting, thanking Irene for his sudden swiftness. If Laurance had been transforming into a Shadow Knight, hunting Aphmau… he didn’t dare to finish that thought.

“I-I-” 

“You’re in the woods outside Bright Port,” Garroth said. A sudden thought crossed his mind. “You’re not in the Nether.”

“That’s what they always say,” he blabbered. “Not real, not real - none of it.”

“For fuck’s sake! Aphmau needs our help!” 

“Aphmau?” 

His eyes cleared slightly, narrowing. “No. No, she’s-” 

“She’s with Kiki, and in trouble. You and I went to find her and bring her home.  _ Home _ . Phoenix Drop. Remember that?” 

“I… yeah…” 

“That’s right.” Garroth sagged in relief. For a moment, it had seemed as if Laurance would just keep attacking him, and that would be  _ incredibly  _ inconvenient.

“Your sword.”

“What?”

He lifted his chin. “Hurt me.”

“What the fuck!? I’m not - I’m not going to - huh!?!” 

“Try it! Do it! Get your sword!” 

“Irene help me, I’m not going to stab you, Laurance!”

Laurance went limp with relief. “If you were the illusion, you would gladly do it. You’d tell me I’m safe, and prove it by cutting me. But - but - you didn’t.” 

“I… didn’t… cut… you…” Garroth tried to trace the path of his words. “I’m confused.”

Laurance shoved Garroth off him mercilessly and tried frantically to rub away his tears. 

“Oh,  _ Irene _ .” 

“Yeah,” Garroth said, utterly lost and even angry with Laurance for whatever the Hell that was. He stood up, eyes narrowing. 

“Now if you’re done,  _ I’m  _ going back to bed.”

He left Laurance there, curled in the dirt.


	11. episode eleven

No matter what, he couldn’t seem to shake the tension that still hung in the air. Neither of them were willing to admit to being vulnerable to the other, but Laurance himself had shut himself away from Garroth’s somewhat curious gaze. 

Both of them wondering what in Irene had happened that night in the woods. 

He couldn’t forget the transformation from exhilaration to terror, in his dream. Something had felt _natural_ about losing the fight; Garroth’s easy, unfamiliar laughter, the cool blade on his neck, feeling safe despite the battle itself - all of it had made his heart race against its will. 

It had snapped so quickly. The slightest quirk of that smile turned sinister. Laurance’s beating heart racing not from adrenaline, but fear. The panic that he would die, and it would be at Garroth’s hands, and that somehow hadn’t felt real until then. He had danced on death’s doorstep, practically inviting Garroth to swing his sword - but he hadn’t imagined how it would feel for the blow to connect.

But if he had the opportunity, the chance to, would he kill his enemy?

He didn’t know.

He hated it. 

Laurance didn’t have the heart for banter. Not even his hatred of Garroth could distract him from the idea that the Nether had crawled into the real world, hunting him into his dreams. Even now, body trembling as he stumbled through the woods, he couldn’t be certain that he had left the hallucinations behind. He would never be sure.

From the wary, and even hateful looks that Garroth was flashing at him, he didn’t know what to make of Laurance, waking up screaming, unable to tell truth and lie, reality and illusion, apart. Perhaps it had confronted him - or merely bored him.

Garroth was getting bored of Laurance - his irritating persona, his turbulent emotions, his hunger to be accepted. All of it, becoming tiresome for the Head Guard, too exhausted to even give a reaction anymore. Laurance couldn’t interpret what was going on in his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. He was afraid of what he would find. Would he discover the spark of hatred that motivated him to be dead and gone? 

Laurance had to get used to the fact that Garroth didn’t care, and had to grit his teeth and remind himself that he didn’t care about _his_ opinion, either.

Garroth had Aphmau. When would he decide that it wasn’t worth acknowledging Laurance at all?

The sound of boots crunching fallen leaves dimmed, and Garroth halted.

“Look,” he muttered. Laurance traced the path of his gaze, noticing for the first time the shadow of towers peeking above the treeline, barely visible through the deep sky of dusk. 

His fingers picked at the buttons of his jacket, refusing to acknowledge the idea that Garroth had been looking anywhere but at him. Purely ignoring what had happened as if silence could chase away the bad dreams. 

The peaks of the towers were jagged, a dark echo of the Nether Fortress. 

Tied down.

Blinded. 

Tortured. 

Not another hallucination - no, no, he couldn’t be here. Not again. 

Was the sky crimson? 

Or grey. 

_Irene, no._

He glanced sideways to Garroth, frozen in place, trying to move but hesitating, despite himself, refusing to take a step forward. They were almost to the edge of the woods.

So close.

He clenched his fists, breathing suddenly heavy. An ache settled on his chest and wouldn’t budge, weighing him down. His stomach - he was going to be sick.

“Let’s make camp for the night,” Garroth said.

“No, no, let’s keep going.” He was suddenly urgent. 

“Don’t be so reckless. You don’t know where we are, or what kind of people live around here. You could walk right into a trap.” Garroth’s tone was on a tight leash, controlled, as if Laurance would attack if he so much as glanced at him strangely.

“We need shelter. Shelter is out there. What more do you want?” 

But he didn’t want another Fortress, he wanted wind and the open sky. He swallowed.

“To not die? That’d be nice. If I could get through tonight with no _close calls,_ that’d be great.” Garroth glared at Laurance.

“Yeah, well, the night is still young.”

Before Garroth could protest, he burst from the woods with a great cry, the open air and wind hitting him at once. In the giant field, long grass tangled his legs as he ran, arms spread, jacket streaming out behind him as the moon hit his face.

_Thank Irene._

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

Out here, he could breathe.

To their right, the shadow of an intricately designed castle kept vigil through the night, silent and sturdy. Laurance refused to look, blinking out at a field and a lake stretching lazily before him.

“You little idiot!” Garroth hissed, wading through the grass. “If I die, my ghost is coming after your ass.” 

“Your ghost likes my ghost’s ass?” 

“ _No.”_

“I _do_ have a nice ass, you’re right.” 

Dull silence. Garroth was scanning the field, alert, hair loose and buffeted by the wind.

_Come on, yell at me, curse. Anything._

_Tell me you hate me._

“If your ghost has a thing for my ass, does that mean that you-” 

“Freeze.”

Garroth drew his sword, frozen, half crouched into the grass, motioning for Laurance to mimic him. Laurance stood still, glancing around, finding nothing amiss, and shrugged. He reached for his sword.

“Don’t. Move. A. Muscle.” 

“You can’t fool me,” Laurance said. Although the slimmer of fear in Garroth’s eyes seemed… real…

Real, fake. Could he trust himself to know the difference? 

He started moving again. 

“Get down!” 

“Why should I!?”

A growl rippled from the grass behind him. 

When he turned, he found thin, wavering yellow slits watching from the shadows. A thick snout poked from between two blades of grass.

_Ah. That could be why._

  
  


* * *

  
  


_“Help! Someone, anyone, p-please!? Help!”_

_“Donna, keep your voice low!”_

**_Donna!?_ **

_Aphmau reared her head and ran into the long grass, blindly searching for the voices. From the peak of the mountains, from the lookout of Bodolf’s tribe, she had been able to see two thin shapes, moving restlessly in the valley, distant to where the wolves were patrolling._

_The male voice wasn’t as gruff as Logan and Donna’s, but they_ **_had_ ** _been on their honeymoon together. But Donna’s plea struck a chord in Aphmau and she called out warily._

_“Donna?”_

_“Aphmau!”_

_A flash of blue bobbed over the tip of the field and she waded to it, only to be tackled in a shaky hug from Donna. The girl’s arms wrapped around her neck, and her face pressed into her shoulder with a weak sob. “Aphmau, it’s you, it’s really you!”_

_Aphmau had never had a family, and if she had, her memory of them had been stolen long ago. That was before she had met Garroth in Phoenix Drop, and Laurance in Meteli._

_And then Donna, only a teen when Aphmau had found her, curled in the crumbling ruins of her old town, name lost to the elements. Practically her sister, whilst they barely looked alike; Donna was pale to Aphmau’s dark skin, with light brown hair and watery green eyes. Still, Aphmau couldn’t deny that she was fiercely protective of Donna, even if she was now an adult and was fully capable of making her own decisions._

_She gripped Donna tightly. “What’s going on? Where’s Logan? What are you doing_ **_here_ ** _?”_

_“I - oh, Irene, it was… it was… we got taken hostage.”_

_“We?”_

_It was then that Aphmau took in the thick black coak that Donna had wrapped around herself, shivering, and the boots too big for her. The second figure lurked behind Donna, holding a sword in each hand, watching quietly._

_“It’s okay, Dante,” Donna said. “This woman can be trusted.”_

_The man stepped forward, wearing a baggy, awkwardly fitted white uniform strapped with brown and golden fabric and leather. His hair was electric blue, shaggy and uncut. His sunken eyes spoke of exhaustion, but despite that all… Aphmau wasn’t inclined to underestimate him. He gripped his swords as if very familiar with them and how to use them in battle. He inclined his chin, silently, in greeting, his blue eyes flickering with curiosity._

_Dante…_

  
  


“Dante!” 

Aphmau charged through the castle, calling his name, unable to shake the feeling that she was not alone. Or, at least, they were sharing the castle with… _something_. The journals that she had found both on the bookshelves and strewn throughout the rooms told stories that made her instincts want to turn and run. 

This was not the place for her.

_Get out, get out, get out._

_I will, once I have Dante._

It had been at least an hour, and Aphmau decided hastily that, if it came down to it, Dante would probably appreciate her help if he was in trouble. 

It seemed to be a pattern with her, to find solace and comfort in every new friend she collected, until her heart would crack and shatter from the pressure of appeasing them all. She had warmed quickly to Dante, although at first glance he seemed gangly and awkward, he had grown into his role as her temporary protector. He was quiet, but determined. She liked him. Still, she worried that he would tire of her easily, and leave at his first opportunity. Surely, he had better things to do than entertain and defend a Lord?

She wove through the halls frantically, hearing nothing but her own breathing and the creaking of the ancient castle, strung with cobwebs and dust.

The torches she lit spluttered out from silent, cold breaths. 

The night was chilled. Through the windows, Aphmau caught glimpses of the first snowfall, tiny snowflakes shooting past into the fields beyond.

A muffled yell of terror reached her and she ran, tracing the sound, weaving her way through the maze of corridors and hallways.

“Dante!” 

She stumbled, half by accident, into a wide room and froze. Dante’s body was strung up on the wall, his uniform hanging by a pair of nails, limp and unmoving. Crouched before it was a small figure, translucent and bony, ribs jutting out underneath a thin, torn cloak. Round yellow eyes fixed to her, glowing like lamplights, bathing her in a warm glow.

“Let him go!” she shrieked. The… _thing…_ straightened, cocking their head, watching her intently. 

“Ooh!” they said, not distinctly masculine or feminine, a childlike voice, finding innocent delight in her appearance. “You came to play! 

“What did you do to him!?” 

‘“He’s not _dead,_ don’t pout like that! Ha...ha… I wonder… what would _your_ fear be?” 

Before she could resist, she felt a great stabbing in her head, as if long, spindly claws were probing into her thoughts, her dreams, her memories, shifting through them, pausing when they found something of interest.

“Ooh, this is a _fun_ one!”

_In a flash of light, she was in Phoenix Drop. The black and purple entity that Zane had brought into her village, the rip in Realm Barriers - it was back. It covered everything, and what had been spared by the thick rock had been lit on fire. A low, chilling laugh rippled from nearby, but she couldn't find Zane anywhere._

**_I know you’re here._ **

_Screams erupted from the houses, consumed in fire. A shape exploded out of a nearby window, shattering glass onto the path. Blood spattered before her._

_Garroth, unmasked, a limp body in his arms. Baby Levin. The pair of them marred by tiny cuts and wedges of glass. Garroth, on fire. Garroth, writhing in agony. Garroth, screaming wretchedly._

_Levin, already dead._

_No matter what, she couldn’t reach for them._

**_No, no, no, no, no -_ **

“That was a blast!” giggled that voice, obviously delighted. A dark, hollow and sunken face peered close to her. “This fear is such a _classic._ Your fatal flaw so… _cliche._ But I just can’t resist - losing those you love? Ugh! How noble!” 

She was too gutted to manage sentences. No pleas, no begging. 

“Dante…” 

“You mean this guy, over here? Heh… well, sharing is _caring_ , I suppose. I’ll let you have a peek!” They crawled to Dante, small, spindly claws stroking his face almost kindly. “I do love the unique ones…”

_She was in the Nether._

_Instantly, she was reminded of Laurance, and how she had lost him in such a fortress._

_When she tried to move, she found herself trapped, encased in thick black rock that held her firmly to the ground, knees against her chest. She writhed helplessly, but nothing._

_A figure stood before her and, hearing her struggle to free herself from the dark prison, spun._

_His eyes were a familiar blue, cheeks hollow, and for a moment Aphmau was sure that she was staring at Dante. But no, the stranger’s hair was dark, half-shaven and curly. In his hands, he gripped a staff. The man smiled._

_“Glad you could finally make it,” he said, holding out his arms as if waiting for a hug, but the gesture seemed mocking - cruel. “I’ve been waiting for you.”_

The vision melted away. There was no floor beneath her feet. 

Aphmau screamed, writhing in place. Alongside her, Dante was suspended on nails by his uniform, dangling helplessly. She, too, was hanging by the leathers wrapped around her shirt. Below her, in the main hall of the castle, the door swung open. The howl of the wind drowned out another terrified cry from her.

_Irene, no, no._

Sweat beaded on her forehead. 

“Scream all you want,” the young voice giggled. “ _They_ won’t hear you. I found out that little tidbit, that you’re afraid of heights. It gets boring, showing the same old fears; dangling people off cliffs gets so tiring!” 

Two figures appeared below her, and through her terror, she recognised armour and a pale blue sword glittering in the gloom. If… if that was Garroth, then the man lingering behind him…

_Laurance!_

“Garroth! Laurance! Help, help! Look up!” 

“Oh, they won’t hear you. Aren’t you at least a _tiny_ bit curious about their fears? They’ve got some delicious ones!” 

“Why… why would you do this?” 

The voice ignored her. 

“Watch… enjoy the show!” 

* * *

  
  


Laurance hung back, looking severely uncomfortable being in the castle.

Garroth turned, sword drawn. “I can’t _believe_ you.” 

“I-” 

“You almost got us both _killed.”_

“Hey, we killed it, though, didn’t we?” 

“Oh, and I suppose those howls we heard and the pawsteps behind us were just part of a little game, were they? Those werewolves wanted us dead.” 

“We’re not dead,” Laurance protested, shivering from the sudden cold. It had begun snowing outside. “And if we had died, I’d feel comforted knowing that my ghost has a great ass for you to go after.” 

“You really want to talk about your _ass_ right now? Irene, help me.This isn’t a joke, Laurance. This shit is _real_.” 

The word made them both freeze. 

That word. That’s what he was blabbering about in the woods that night. 

“I don’t know,” Laurance said, and for a moment he seemed, for the second time, dangerously vulnerable. Weak. Helpless. “I can’t tell.” 

Garroth turned away in disgust, hating seeing Laurance so _pitiful._ It reminded him too much of how sick he had been on the ship, barely able to speak or curse. Laurance had been the one to hold his hair back. He had been weak then, and he had no intention of letting himself be that way in front of someone like Laurance ever again.

Never again.

The world dissolved underneath him. 

_They were in Phoenix Drop, in the plaza. Aphmau’s back was to them, leaning into an animated conversation with Kawaii-chan._

_Beside him, Laurance flinched, hands dragging at his eyes helplessly, letting out a low, keening noise. “I’m blind!?”_

_Garroth looked around, cursing himself for his helplessness._

**_What do I do!?_ **

_A stranger slid between Laurance and Garroth, only slightly taller than Laurance, with electric blue hair. Sheathed in his belt was a pair of wicked looking silver swords._

_“What’s going on!?” Laurance demanded, fumbling for his sword. “Garroth?”_

_“I’m here.”_

_“Aphmau. She’s here. And a… a guy…”_

_Grinning comfortably, the stranger strode lazily in Aphmau’s direction._

**_What…?_ **

_His guard senses screamed to act._

_The man tackled her to the ground and raised his fist._

_Not her - not Aphmau._

_He was too slow to stop the first blow, an ugly wet crack against her cheek. He heard Laurance yelling behind him._

_“Don’t take her!” he begged. “Not her! Anyone but her!”_

_Aphmau screamed for help and Garroth was there, dragging the stranger off her. No matter how hard he pulled, kicked, the blue haired man crawled back to her, nails trying to cling to her skin, carving tiny, frantic marks._

_Laurance begged for help from behind him, reaching for something that Garroth couldn’t see and clinging to it, trying to drag some invisible figure back to him. Trying to put something back together._

_“No, no, no, no, no- no-”_

_The man stood and drew his swords, and raised them high above Aphmau’s head. Prepared to make the blow._

_“No!”_

_Garroth’s sword met his neck as he swung. And this time, he did not hesitate._

_The stranger’s head tumbled to the ground, and his body crumbled into smoke and ash._

_He sank to his knees._

**_Did I just…?_ **

_The world around him shattered like glass._

  
  


Both he and Laurance were on their knees on a wooden floor, Garroth’s sword still brandished out before him. Trembling before his blade was a child, skin dark and translucent, the air around them shifting and glittering.

“Garroth! Laurance!” 

“Aphmau!” Garroth spun, looking for her.

There was an awful thud from behind them, and Aphmau was suddenly on the ground, whimpering, holding her legs. “Ow, ow, agh....

There was a familiar man beside her, unconscious, blue-haired…

Garroth ran to Aphmau and held his sword over her body, spitting towards the stranger.

“He - he tried to kill you!”

“Wh - Dante!? No, Garroth, no - this - they show you your fears!” 

“He tried to - to- what?” 

“Garroth?” 

Laurance had stood, shakily, and approached the ghost... thing. They trembled at his feet, wailing. Small, and vulnerable, and… 

  
A child.

  
  
  


“Mum!? Mum, where are you!? Help! They want to - to - please, help me! I only wanted them to know - to feel it too!” 

“Oh, Irene,” Aphmau breathed.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Laurance felt himself pause.

Breathe.

It was like looking into a mirror. Despite the strange aura surrounding them, the child before him was… was _him._

Brown skin, and curly hair. Freckled. Even those slightly slitted pupils, and an iris glazed green, as if peering into some distant memory, seemed achingly familiar. 

Laurance bent down, resting his hands on his knees. His eyes were lit with vivid curiosity. “Hello.” 

The child quietened slightly, quivering. “He wanted to hurt me!” 

“I know, I know. It’s okay.” 

Garroth was trying to soothe a frantic Aphmau, encouraging her to use her legs. Laurance heard her whisper, voice trembling. “I- I can’t- stand.” 

He couldn’t rip his eyes away from the peculiar child. “Come to me.”

He beckoned, and the child fell into his arms, fitting perfectly against his chest.

“Who are you?” 

The child sniffed, voice high and wavering. “I-I-I’m Malachi. I just - I- my family - I lost them. I can move my castle, and I’ve been - been - been looking for them. I can’t… find them…” 

They peered up into Laurance’s eyes anxiously. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I hurt the girl, and the boy, I just - I just wanted them to feel it!” 

“Feel what?” 

“My _pain!_ They told me to control my gift and I - I - I _can’t!”_

“Shhh… shhh…” 

Laurance held Malachi close to him. He couldn’t shake the unexplainable feeling that the child was his echo. 

_A child who had had stones thrown at him._

_A child that had fought with his sister, wearing matching dresses._

_A child without parents - an orphan, even - who wanted nothing more than to be_ **_seen_ **.

_Loved._

“It’s okay, Malachi,” he soothed, letting his own voice wash away Garroth and Aphmau. He was concerned for his best friend, of course, and he was even somewhat content with Garroth surviving, too. But Malachi seemed to call to his very soul, begging to be loved, and who was Laurance to deny them that?

“Please,” they cried. “Please, don’t leave me behind!”

Laurance would not have wanted to be left behind.

“I promise, I won’t.” 

“You-?”

“You’re safe,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.” 


	12. episode twelve

  
  
  


They had carried Aphmau outside, laying her onto a bench and wrapping her in a thick, dark coat. The air was cool and bitter, their breath clouding in the empty space surrounding them, the wind whipping snow around them. Laurance cradled Malachi in his arms, feeling their head rested against his shoulder. Their tears had halted, and they sniffled meekly.

“I don’t know how I- why I can- do it. It’s just… my  _ gift,”  _ they said, the group gathered around Laurance, who now let his hand brush Aphmau’s shoulder where she lay. Malachi blinked, eyes owlish. Their figure was startlingly clear, although through some angles, they were still half transparent. Their freckles were pale and floating, like tiny stars. Laurance found that somewhat familiar, despite the fact that he was barely freckled at all. “Mr. Thomas came to help me… control my gift… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but - but Mr. Thomas… he got so mad at me when he found out that I couldn’t help myself. He got so frustrated - it wasn’t his fault! But- but he pushed me off the balcony and… and ever since then…” 

They lifted their head, cheeks glistening with silver tears. “I died. And now I- I can’t leave. It’s been so long…” 

Laurance stroked Malachi’s hair comfortingly. He could barely comprehend the idea that the child had been haunting their castle for… longer than Laurance wanted to imagine. All alone, growing up in mind, but not in body. Half childlike, half infinite. 

_ You must be so lonely.  _

_ Not anymore.  _

Aphmau grasped his hand and squeezed, and Laurance was grateful for the sudden support. But then Aphmau raised her gaze to Malachi.

“You showed me awful things,” she said, sounding like a stern mother.

“I’m sorry,” Malachi whimpered.

Laurance gripped them tightly, protecting them. “Don’t blame Malachi for lashing out. It’s not their fault.” 

_ They’re like me. I can’t abandon them. _

Aphmau seemed to recognise Laurance’s desperation, his desire to keep Malachi safe and content. She leaned back with a groan. “Ow…”

Garroth cut in, voice suspicious. “So we’re just supposed to accept this kid? He-” 

“They,” Malachi corrected, voice small. 

Garroth hesitated. “They showed me… visions and fears that  _ no one _ wants to confront.” He seemed suddenly awkward to speak his weakness into existence, glancing to Aphmau for comfort.

“Me, too,” Laurance admitted grudgingly. “But that’s no excuse not to be accepting of Malachi’s past and experiences. They’ve been through a lot.” 

“I’m not denying that,” Garroth said. “But isn’t it funny that the one who usually leads us into danger is now the one to instantly  _ accept  _ the danger into our ranks?”

“Excuse me?”

“It always seems to be your recklessness that gets us in trouble,” Garroth said carefully.  _ “I  _ think that such foolishness and haste  _ adopting  _ some…  _ ghost child _ seems right in character for you, Laurance.”

“Choose your next words carefully.”

“I don’t trust Malachi. And  _ I  _ can’t trust you. So think about where your loyalties truly lie.”

Laurance swore, foully and angrily, covering Malachi’s ears with both hands as he did. He turned on his heel and stalked inside, emotions bubbling inside of him.

_ Don’t do anything stupid.  _

He was roaring for revenge. Just as he had defended himself and Cadenza from those bullies in their youth, all he could see was Garroth threatening him and those he loved. Garroth, throwing stones. Garroth, teasing and provoking. Garroth and his stupid, stupid face, and his fucking freckles like constellations or whatever shit Laurance had made up that he loathed.

_ Fucking Garroth. _

His breathing was taut with the thought that Garroth might even go after him, trying to make amends. It’d be… nice, for once. Then he remembered that apologies and weakness weren’t in Garroth’s vocabulary, and Garroth didn’t care about hurting Laurance’s feelings. 

He had to admit that this was different to his youth. Laurance was no longer a victim - Malachi was - and he in return had thrown stones back at Garroth. Both of them trying to hit each other, trying to inflict pain and fill themselves with some kind of temporary satisfaction. Malachi, this new and delicate figure in Laurance’s life, caught in the middle of them. 

Perhaps it was that shred of Shadow Knight lurking within him, but he wanted to fight. He wanted to feel that rage and breathe it, revelling in the thrill of the battle. He wanted his emotions to rule him. He wanted to  _ feel. _

In a way, Garroth was right. His desire to protect Malachi  _ was  _ irrational, especially after only just meeting them, but Laurance couldn’t deny that they deserved his love. 

_ I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.  _

He fought to recover his sensibility, his morals. Something in him wanted his hands on Garroth.

Hands around his throat, nose to nose.

He curled one hand into a fist, turning his knuckles white.

“Don’t worry about me,” Malachi said wistfully. “I’m fine. It’s… I’m used to it.”

“Like Hell it’s fine,” Laurance said, stomping back into the open snow, huffing, Malachi clinging to him.

_ I’ll make him pay. Later. _

Out in the wind and the thin flakes of snow, the stranger had awoken. Garroth, who seemed to have a habit of putting his sword to the neck of men he didn’t trust, had the blue haired man backed against the wall of the castle. Laurance leaned against the door, watching with faint amusement.

_ Garroth has a new target to take out his worries out on, eh? _

“ _ You,”  _ Garroth snarled. “You were in my… hallucination… thing… You tried to kill Aphmau!” 

“I would never!” the stranger protested, holding up open palms. His blue hair was scruffy, eyes dull. Laurance was impressed that he stood straight, despite Garroth leaning over him. The stranger was barely taller than Laurance. “That child - they’re a spectre! I did nothing in that vision. They showed you a fear of yours, and… I suppose I got to play the assassin.”

He smiled grimly. 

“So… so you didn’t…?”

“No.” 

Aphmau sat up on her bench, wincing from the pain. “I think an introduction is in order. Laurance, Garroth… this is Dante.” 

“Who are they?” Dante’s face was cautiously polite, gaze flitting from Laurance to Garroth, who was looking particularly unimpressed to find Laurance back in the courtyard so soon. 

“My guards.” 

Laurance flashed her a surprised look. Sure, he had a sword and would protect her with his life, but did that make him worthy to be her guard? He had hurt her so much… 

He had always thought that he had been born to be the lover - and a false one, at that - and nothing more. Aphmau’s eyes shone with pride, encouraging him, welcoming him into her life. As much as he was grateful to even be considered her guard and protector, how could he accept that kind of honour, responsibility, carrying the burden of knowing that he would always be the villain? 

_ I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve any of this. The way that Garroth treats me seems to be the realest thing about all of this - and you know life is shit when Garroth is the only one who’s real. _

Garroth, evidently, had taken offence to Aphmau’s comment, and glanced towards Laurance in silent shock. 

_ Did she just call him her guard?  _ Laurance could almost hear his thoughts, and forced himself to smirk. Putting on that cocky bastard persona that he knew Garroth hated, and flaunting it, trying to elicit a reaction from him.

“I’m glad that we have allies out here. It’ll make rescuing Logan far easier,” Dante said, curious eyes flashing between Garroth and Laurance. His gaze fell onto Malachi, and hardened slightly. “Lady Aphmau, what should we do about the spectre?” 

Pleadingly, Laurance looked to Aphmau. Malachi lifted their head, eyes round and suddenly frightened. His fingers tightened around the child’s back, holding them close. 

“I promised,” he said quietly, knowing that Aphmau would understand. “I promised not to leave them behind, and I won’t.”

Aphmau hesitated, visibly conflicted. Garroth straightened, daring Laurance to comment further. 

“They might try to show us more of these… fears…” The blond guard said awkwardly. 

“Aw, you’re scared?” 

“You’ll be scared of me, if you keep talking like that.”

Laurance’s laugh was cold and daring, and the inclining of his chin suggested that that was exactly what he wanted. He felt numb, so he would wake himself up by antagonising the only person who would ever attack him. 

Aphmau said quietly, “I’ll think about it,” and Laurance had the sense that she was already fragile from hurting herself, and her ordeal in the castle itself. It had shaken her composure. 

Perhaps she needed time to clear her head. 

Although she was clearly well enough to narrow her eyes whenever Garroth would glare at Laurance and know that their journey had healed none of the rivalry between them. Sure, they understood each other a little better - exactly what buttons to push to earn a reaction, exactly how to taunt the other, and how to find and sneer at their weaknesses. But it was still essentially the same hatred that ran in their blood, and it would not fade.

“Laurance, Garroth, how… why… why are you here?” 

“Laurance and I, er…  _ agreed  _ that you had been gone for long enough to warrant an investigation.” 

_ Ugh. Imagine agreeing with Garroth on anything! _

“We came to help you. But I would have thought you’d be in the wolf village, not… here.” 

“Logan and Donna got separated,” Aphmau explained. “Captured by a rival wolf pack. Me and Dante, we’re going to rescue Logan. Or, at least, we were...” She looked down at her legs helplessly. 

“Laurance led us right into the jaws of some wolves. Perhaps it was those.” His gaze was warm for sympathy for her injury, the only person that he would show any sort of public softness for. “We’ll find a way to help you, I promise.” 

Malachi, soothed by the sudden quiet and sound of light snowfall, was falling asleep. Their eyes drooped drowsily, cheek pressed against Laurance’s shoulder. Garroth made his voice low, trying not to disturb them. 

“Aphmau. What are you going to do about Malachi?” 

_ Give her some time. Irene, come on.  _

But Aphmau sat up, beckoning them all closer to her. Laurance raised a questioning brow to Garroth, who scowled. And Dante stood quietly, watching them curiously, trying to decipher their expressions, their body language. 

“I’ve decided. We’re taking Malachi with us.”

Laurance sagged in relief, gripping Malachi tightly. 

“Did you hear that?” he said, smiling. “You’re coming with me.” 

Malachi was asleep, pale green eyes shut, blissfully snoozing in Laurance’s arms. From Laurance’s angle, their body shimmered, snow drifting through their transparent, thin skin and starry freckles glittering.

“That’s… kind of you, Aphmau,” Garroth replied warily, eyeing Laurance. 

The temperature had dropped. A current of danger wavered over them.

“Inside,” said Dante, and no one could protest. Laurance could feel eyes on his back, watching him step inside, waiting for him to erupt. 

_ Perhaps I won’t give you the satisfaction.  _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Laurance had managed to keep his emotions in check for one night, but Garroth was a patient man. He was simply waiting for the day that Laurance couldn’t contain his rage and would attack - the pair of them were playing a dangerous game, tip-toeing around each other, taunting and prodding the other until they attacked. Garroth, despite himself, was competitive, and he knew that he wanted to win, to prove himself worthy of Aphmau’s praise. He would have to prove it over and over until he even began to consider the idea that he was  _ good.  _ He couldn’t comprehend the idea that he could even coexist with Laurance. 

Still, he felt lost on what to do with himself when Laurance didn’t pay attention to him, look at him, swear at him. Where else would he be able to spend his restless energy and temper? But no, he was fully interested in the kid, the ghost child. 

What was so interesting about Malachi that had made Laurance so… protective? Garroth had never seen Laurance so temperamental and defensive, not even around him or Aphmau. There had to be something else about Malachi, something that made Laurance determined to protect them no matter what the cost.

_ He won’t fight me with that kid around.  _

_ Although they  _ **_do_ ** _ look like me.  _

Garroth had recognised it about Malachi instantly - those starry freckles were like his. Everything else seemed reminiscent of Laurance, lanky, curly-haired, impish and wicked. But those freckles belonged to Garroth. 

As if Malachi was their… 

The thought made him throw up in the back of his mouth. Disgusting. Forbidden. 

_ Ugh. _

The snow had persisted through the night, and the morning was crinkled with thick layers of frost. The lake close to the castle was coated in a heavy sheet of ice. As Garroth stepped out, once again wearing his armour, he felt… 

_ Okay.  _

He wasn’t even wearing his helm. Perhaps he had fallen into the trap of being comfortable with it off, at least around those he knew. Even Laurance. A stray snowflake stuck to his cheek. 

Laurance walked outside with a yawn, stretching delicately. 

"Morning," Garroth said, forcing himself to not shy away from Laurance's movements.

The scandalized expression that stole Laurance's features made it far more entertaining to actually be nice. Or at least pretend.

"Oh? You're actually talking to me today?" 

"I figure without _someone_ to boost your fat ego, you'll combust." 

"Eh. Most likely."

With a finger, he flicked the snowflake from Garroth’s cheek, darting away when Garroth swatted at him.

“Ever heard of personal space?” 

“Not at all.” 

Laurance reached for the snow in Garroth’s hair and was wrestled away, laughing coldly. “Come on, freckles!”

“Okay, _now_ you’re pushing it!” 

Malachi barrelled from the doorway, weaving through the adults with childlike yells of glee. Snow drifted through their ghostly form. They darted around Laurance’s legs, hugging him briefly before sprinting across the courtyard. 

“Perhaps I was too harsh on Malachi,” Garroth admitted quietly. Sleep had somewhat cleared his mind. Even unbearable Laurance couldn’t ruin his good mood.

  
“Yes,” Laurance replied cautiously, seeming surprised that Garroth was giving in. “They’re a good kid, and will thrive if given the opportunity to.” 

  
  


_ “Zenix is a good kid. He’ll thrive if I give him the opportunity to.”  _

_ Molly had the courage to look hurt after openly questioning Zenix’s motivations, as if Garroth had personally offended her by defending his apprentice. It could have been in part due to Garroth’s intimidating appearance, tall, muscular and heavily armoured. Not for the first time, he wished that he had the confidence to overcome his anxieties and allow Phoenix Drop to see him. Really, and truly, see him. He was more than just the gruff Head Guard, but he had no idea how to present that side of himself to people who didn’t even trust him. _

_ In a way, Zenix was just as much of a support system as Garroth was to him. They helped each other. Zenix was easily more impulsive, reckless, and open. Garroth was more mature, grounded, and reserved.  _

_ “If you only came here to insult Zenix…”  _

_ “I’m going, I’m going!” Molly fanned herself, looking severely irritated.  _

**_How do you expect me to take you seriously if you don’t even trust me?_ **

_ He walked back inside the tiny, decrepit guard tower and found Zenix, leaning against the wall, covering his face with his hands.  _

_ “Zenix?” _

_ The boy jumped, lifting his head hastily, trying to hide the evidence, but it was too obvious that he had been crying. His face was still crinkled with tears, stained blotchy red, eyes dulled.  _

_ “Garroth. I-I-”  _

_ He closed the door behind him and took off his mask, letting Zenix see him. See his frustration with Phoenix Drop, and his disconnection from their gossip and rumours.  _

_ “Dry your tears,” Garroth said, pulling Zenix in for a hug. The teen’s hands shook against his back. “You should not have to listen to idiots and fools, and they should not govern your emotions. You’re a good kid, and you know that. You don’t have to prove that to anyone.” _

_ “W-what about you?”  _

_ “You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I trust you. No matter what.” Garroth understood what it felt like to feel out of place in such a tight-knit community. He was alone in the world - but so was Zenix.  _

_ “You promise?”  _

_ Garroth patted Zenix’s head comfortingly.  _

_ “I promise.”  _

Malachi’s growing wail broke through the memory. Both men spun, and who could have known what Laurance had been thinking, watching Malachi in the courtyard. Lost in his own memories and past. Garroth struggled to pull himself out of his trance - in the Winter, with Laurance’s dark skin slightly paled, his hair still messy from sleep, he looked like… Zenix. 

Even that crooked smile was the same, Garroth recognised with a grimace. 

He watched Laurance’s face crumble before his very eyes as Malachi struck up an eerie cry. They stood at the gates of the courtyard on their knees, ghostly hands pounding the metal. They tried to reach through the gaps, only to be halted by an invisible barrier. Laurance darted to them, trying to comfort Malachi. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” 

“It won’t - I can’t - it won’t let me go!” 

“The… the castle?” 

“I don’t want to be left behind! Please don’t leave me! Please!”

Garroth, despite his suspicions of the child, couldn’t help but feel helpless. What could he do? Laurance was there, and he had clearly had better experiences dealing with children. Garroth still caught himself, seeing Zenix in any youthful face. 

From behind him, a strange clopping noise arrived. Dante and Aphmau, the latter bracing herself on wooden crutches strapped with bandages. It didn’t exactly seem safe, but she was keeping her feet off the ground, leaning heavily on the wood. She grunted as she maneuvered to him, Dante supervising carefully.

“What’s happening!?”    
  


“It’s Malachi,” he said awkwardly. “Laurance is trying to help, but I think… I don’t think Malachi can leave. It must be some kind of ghost thing, but they can’t leave the castle.” 

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “Malachi really wants to come with us. They really love Laurance.” 

“I can tell,” he said dryly. Malachi’s face was pressed into Laurance’s shoulder as they cried, mumbling pleas to not leave them behind. Despite himself, his heart gave a lurch at how openly shaken Laurance was.

“I won’t leave you behind,” he vowed.

Vulnerable. Openly so. Garroth watched, awkwardly, feeling out of place.

The man straightened, and for once, he openly met Garroth’s stare. “If you have something to say, say it.” Almost daring him to judge, to belittle him.

Garroth shocked himself by blinking calmly. Just as Zenix had that day, Malachi and Laurance had earned the right to be upset. “Nothing.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Laurance was too surprised to respond. 

“Good,” he finally said, holding Malachi’s tiny hand in his fingers. “Then come on, freckles. We’re going to get Malachi out of here.”


	13. episode thirteen

  
  


“I’ll come back for you,” Laurance was saying, crouched down before Malachi, head bowed. “I won’t leave you behind.”

“You promise? You won’t leave like my parents did?” 

“My parents left me, too. I won't do the same to you.” 

Dante watched from a safe distance, torn between his biting curiosity and his respect. These strangers… there was something so easy to the way they bounced insults off each other, banter coming easily. One minute, one of Aphmau’s guards would seem content, the next he would be spitting and swearing. Both of them were at each other’s throats, but there were times when it didn’t even seem malicious. Simply… _playful_. He couldn’t help but think that he would never be a part of that easy, familiar dynamic, as cruel and dangerous as it could be. How could he fit in? How could he find his place among their group?

Garroth stood close by, brows narrowed slightly, watching Laurance. 

_What, exactly, is between those two? Every time they look at each other, it’s just…_ **_confusing._ **

Aphmau adjusted her crutches awkwardly, cursing under her breath. “These hurt.”

“It’s only for a while,” Dante encouraged. He couldn’t imagine why she had allowed him to follow her and protect her, and trusted him. He didn’t even know what her injury was. It could heal in a week. It could heal in months. They didn’t have that kind of time. Her eyes were dejected, hating herself for her weakness. He wanted to comfort her, but it felt unfair. He had fallen - and he had landed without anything but a bruise on the back of his thighs. Aphmau’s legs had buckled.

Just pure chance. But if he had the opportunity to, he would have chosen to be hurt instead. Logan and Donna clearly needed Aphmau more. She navigated to Laurance, balancing on her crutches as she comforted him.

“So,” Garroth said quietly, snow stuck to his nose and hair, eyes gleaming. “You’re a guard, eh?” His suspicious eyes made Dante instantly tense, expecting a wave of interrogations as to how, exactly, he qualified as a guard. What made him worthy to be a Lord’s guardian? 

Garroth looked him up and down, clearly taking in his baggy uniform and leathers, his shaggy haircut, and he flushed awkwardly, unsure of how to explain himself. “I’m fresh out of training,” he mumbled. 

Finally, Garroth said, “I noticed you dual wield katanas. Shouldn’t you have a sword and shield?” 

Dante hesitated. It was a valid concern, but he self consciously gripped his swords tighter. “It suits my skill set better,” he said, trying to be polite. His heart begged to ask more questions. “I have more talent with these than with a single sword and shield.”

He could sense Garroth watching him, waiting, as if knowing that he had more to say on the tip of his tongue. He went ahead, fumbling his words slightly. “Your name - Garroth - you were top of your class in guard training, weren’t you?”

“I was,” Garroth said, blinking in surprise. “How do you-” 

“I recognised your name on the list. If a member of the Jury of Nine fell, you’d be able to replace them.” 

“That’s true.” He dipped his head, seeming conflicted for a moment, then added, “Laurance made that list, too.” 

Dante had the feeling that Garroth hadn’t wanted to involve Laurance into the conversation, and wondered why. The way that they eyed each other, gazes burning, made Dante feel as if he was intruding on something private and sacred. 

“Ah. That means you must be… very powerful.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Garroth’s face reddened. “I worked hard, and found my place in Phoenix Drop. That’s not power, but peace. I’m… sure that Laurance would agree with me.”

Dante nodded hastily, taking mental notes, although he was openly confused. For someone who seemed nervous to even speak Laurance’s name, they seemed to be close. 

“Sir Garroth?”

“Irene, just call me Garroth. No need for formalities.” 

“Uh. Okay. Garroth. Is Laurance your… er, your _boyfriend,_ or…” 

He spluttered, giving Dante an incredulous look through wide eyes, like a cornered animal. His cheeks were bright red. “No! No!” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Laurance looked up, looking flabbergasted. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” 

“Garroth would be _lucky_ to get me to be his boyfriend.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Garroth said. Laurance winked, grinning with cruel feline satisfaction, and turned back to Aphmau. Garroth made a disgusted face. "Ugh." 

_Okay, maybe they’re not_ **_that_ ** _friendly. But I seriously can’t tell._ He cursed himself for his own curiosity and impatience, flushing. 

“So that’s a no…?” Dante said warily.

“Laurance is _not_ my boyfriend,” Garroth hissed through clenched teeth. 

“Ah.” 

“Laurance means _nothing_ to me.”

Laurance did not acknowledge them, focused wholly on Malachi. But Dante could have sworn that he lifted his chin slightly at those words, and he prickled with sudden discomfort.

“Oh,” he managed.

“I have to go,” Laurance was saying to Malachi, “but I’ll come back for you.”

He did not glance in their direction once, but Dante had the sense that Laurance was deliberately ignoring them.

The sky was grey and thick with cloud cover as they gathered at the gate. Malachi was no longer crying, but they still held Laurance’s hand.

Aphmau leaned forward on her crutches. “We’re going to find Malachi a Priest - or- or something to free them from the castle.”

Logically, Dante knew that Malachi was a mistreated child who needed love and attention, and a loving home - he could sympathise with that feeling. Dante had been too lonely over the past months. 

But the child had shown him _Gene_. What kind of power was that, to show him what terrified him the most, to peel away layers of defence and uproot every insecurity that he held? How could Malachi tell that what scared Dante the most was his own brother, and the power he held?

  
  


_Things were perfect. In fact, Dante couldn’t remember a time when things had been so easy for him. Despite what he knew, what he had seen, Gene hadn’t done anything bad for a while. Perhaps he was doing better! Perhaps he had given up on his ambitions now that he was the Head Guard._

_It was a nice thought. The day was bright, with barely under cloud cover. The sky was open, singing of adventure and beckoning Dante closer. He had spent his morning trailing Gene on his patrol, puffing out his chest in his uniform a few sizes too big and trying to look like a fearsome guard._

_“We’re a team,” Gene had said, patting his younger brother’s head with a crooked smile._

_Gene had a new haircut, perfectly groomed to look both intimidating and powerful, and to stick out in a crowd. His curly hair was half-shaven, swooped into a delicate fringe. Dante thought it was a symbol of Gene accepting some kind of humility - being humble, for a change. A fresh start, a new haircut._

_He sat in front of the mirror in his house with a large pair of aged rusted scissors, cutting ragged strips out of his blue hair. He had already shaved the left side, but his strokes had been jagged, and parts of his skin had been accidentally cut. He had wrapped a towel around that side to focus on the curly fringe that made Gene so admirable._

**_Maybe if I look like him, they’ll pay attention to me, too._ **

_But his hair didn’t seem to appreciate the uneven cuts of the scissors, or Dante’s young, shaking hand that couldn’t seem to stop._

_One snip. Another. With each movement, he felt as if he should stop, but he couldn’t. He wanted to look like Gene so badly - he kept cutting. Every snap of the scissors making his eyes water. Praying that, if he kept going, it would end up looking decent. Then he would be attractive._

_In the mirror, he realised that he was crying before he even felt the tears. His hair was jagged and shaggy. He took off the towel, and furiously tried to stifle his ugly weeping. His stomach hurt, looking at himself in the mirror and seeing a gangly, scruffy teen with a bad haircut and no friends but his older brother. And Gene wasn’t even_ **_good,_ ** _anyway. He just had cool hair._

_He felt his hair, pulling loose blue clumps that he had missed out as he went._

_Gene found him there, pulling at his head, trying weakly to wrap bandages around the shaved part of his head. His gaze was sympathetic, but he roughly hauled Dante up and brushed him off, making sounds of disapproval through his teeth._

_“We have to clean you up,” he snapped. “What in Irene were you trying to do, Dante?”_

_“I-I-I just-”_

_“No matter,” his brother said, shaking his head. “Come on. Into the shower, now.”_

  
  


His hands ran through his hair. It had grown out, but it had never quite lost its jagged edges from that haircut. He still had a slight scar on his scalp from the incident. 

He knew that Malachi was only defending themselves from what they had seen as a threat, but Dante couldn’t stop seeing Gene. Gene, in the Nether, waiting for him, beckoning for him. Still loving his brother, despite everything.

“Do we split up?” he asked hopefully, unsure if he was interested in getting caught in the middle of Garroth and Laurance. After all of that, he still had no idea what their relationship was. He’d rather accompany Aphmau, anyway, especially with her crutches. She was determined to help Logan and Malachi in whatever way she could.

She looked around, then glanced at Dante. “I’d like you and I to go alone. I want to see if… we can find a healer as well as a Priest or anyone at all who can exorcise Malachi from the castle. Laurance is staying here to look after Malachi. And Garroth is staying here to look after Laurance.” 

“I don’t need _looking after,”_ Laurance said hotly, folding his arms. He shot Garroth an icy glare. 

Dante glanced between them, grateful to accompany Aphmau. “Let’s get you on a horse, then.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea for her?” Garroth said, trying to be polite.

“I’ll be fine,” Aphmau shrugged, waving him off, eyes glazed with determination. There would be no stopping her.

“Malachi, why don’t you wait inside?” Laurance suggested. He watched them scamper into the castle, fond eyes darkening the second the child disappeared. 

Dante helped Aphmau onto her horse and slung her crutches onto her back, held by her leathers like a sword. She shifted on her horse experimentally, then heaved a sigh. “I’ll be okay. I have to be, if I want to help Logan.” 

“You’re doing great,” Dante said, climbing into his saddle and patting his horse comfortingly. 

He dared to look back as the gates swung shut behind him. Garroth grimly put a helm over his face, as if preparing for war. Body half wreathed in shadows, Laurance turned towards Garroth, eyes gleaming. 

“I mean nothing to you, eh?” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Oh, come on,” Garroth said easily, although his heart began to race at the gleam in Laurance’s eyes. “You can’t seriously be _upset_ about that. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I _don’t like you.”_

But the words sounded wrong. It seemed unfair. He swallowed his thoughts. 

Laurance spluttered slightly, eyes narrowed. “Don’t kid yourself into thinking I care for you at all. If it were me, I’d leave you to the wolves.”

“How selfish…” Garroth could feel Laurance prodding and probing into what would hurt him more, what would goad him into a fight. After the villagers had spread rumours about Zenix, he had done the same thing. Lashing out, begging to fight, wanting the thrill of battle and hatred to wash away his insecurities. Garroth had always been the kind of man to sit and wallow in his pain, letting it consume him. 

“I could almost tolerate you,” Laurance said, eyes burning. “ _Almost._ But you always have to keep talking, don’t you?” 

“I... who are you to speak to me like that!?” He straightened, armour and helm shifting threateningly. He was easily taller than Laurance and more muscular. But Laurance also had his emotions, his memories, his spirit, to fall back onto. Laurance balanced on his toes, trying to match Garroth’s height with a deep scowl.

“I’m the only person with the balls to even question you, apparently! Everyone else believes your timid, shy act, but I know better. I've been thinking lately... There’s so much more to you than _mysterious, bashful_ Garroth Ro’meave.” 

I don’t use that title,” he snapped.

“No? Why not? Is it because you know, deep down, that you _are_ a Ro’meave? You know that you’re just like the rest of your family?” 

“ _Don’t_ compare me to Zane,” Garroth snarled. “You know very well that I am not Zane. I had no intention of using my power and ambition to hurt and belittle others.”

“You seem to use your _power_ on me, plenty. Besides, I wasn’t talking about Zane. When were you planning on telling Aphmau about your father, Garroth?”

He hesitated; he saw Laurance’s delight and knew that he was cornered. He swallowed.

_Control it. Laurance doesn’t control you._

But lately, it had felt as if they were pulling each other’s strings, controlling every move. 

“That’s none of Aphmau’s business,” he protested. He had known at the time that Laurance knowing of his family and heritage was a bad idea - yet he had allowed it to happen. Why? “It’s not _yours,_ either.” 

“It affects all of us. Trust me, I wish your daddy issues didn’t concern me either.”

“It’s not - you’re not.” He struggled to keep his composure. “You’re only making up excuses as to why you got hurt when I said you meant nothing to me.” 

“Not at all. I’ve had things to say since we got to this castle.” Laurance started stalking towards him, lifting up a single finger, backing him against the wall of the castle. Garroth’s breathing grew tight as Laurance looked up at him, face crinkled with hatred.

“You wouldn’t dare to say anything when your little ghost friend is around,” Garroth said quietly.

“I don’t think Malachi needs to see you get your ass beaten.”

_Irene, damn it._ Why was he like this? 

Garroth narrowed his eyes. Everything about Laurance seemed to invite him to _fight_. To prove him right, to be lured into being exactly the man that Laurance thought he was. 

Would things be different if he had pretended to like Laurance from the beginning, or at least given him a chance? Would they have been friends?

“I don’t have to listen to an unattractive, cocky bastard trying to tell me what I can and can’t do.” 

“Oh, please! You’re so attracted to me it makes you look _stupid!”_

Laurance’s hand hit the wall next his head and Garroth froze, hands bracing the cobble behind him. Not making any sudden movements. The air was silent, save for their breathing and the light twinkle of snow. A stray flake hit Laurance’s nose.

“You need to wake up,” Laurance said, the woods spilling out in a rush. “O’Khasis is forming an alliance of cities - how long before they convince that alliance to make them an overseer? Then a _monarchy!_ O’Khasis will control everything before long, and it’ll be thanks to that lazy tyrant - your _father.”_

“You speak as if I’m unaware of my father’s crimes,” Garroth said, voice raising without his permission. He shoved Laurance back and the man stumbled slightly. “You speak as if I wasn’t a victim of him for years! You don’t know what it was like, growing up the way I did.” 

“We had… very different… upbringings…” Laurance said, biting out each word. “I was an orphan. I was tormented as a child. You grew up with royalty, a _rich_ mommy’s boy, and your father… probably wasn’t the _greatest_ dad. I get it. Your father…” 

“He was a dick. I know. I _know_ that. This isn’t a fucking competition as to who had the worst childhood!” 

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you _must_ understand that it is _your_ family - and father - that threatens the current of the world. O’Khasis has already seized Bright Port. How long until they’re going after Phoenix Drop? How long until they have Aphmau and torture her until she gives up everything she loves? When will you stop it?” 

Garroth opened his mouth to argue but Laurance leaned forward, shoving his face close to Garroth’s, unable to stop the tangent he was barreling along. “You are a coward. You’ve been running for your entire life. You ran from O’Khasis. You ran from your title, your marriage, your identity-” 

Something about that struck something deep within Garroth. Laurance was _right._ He’d been shying away from everything for his entire life. Hiding from his father. Hiding from his brother. Hiding from himself. It was as if Laurance looked at him, and saw something in him that he wasn’t prepared to confront. 

_“Stop it,”_ he spat, and kicked Laurance away from him, mustering every commanding force into the words. 

_I’m not ready to face it. I’m not ready at all._ From the snow, Laurance looked up, eyes splintered with some unfamiliar emotion.

“Don’t you talk to me like I’m some apprentice guard! Because I hear you have quite the reputation with _those.”_

Garroth’s composure broke. 

He tackled Laurance into the snow and felt the man laugh underneath him. With light hands, Laurance pried Garroth’s helm off despite his struggles and tossed it into the snow, leaning into his face with a wry smirk. His hair fell loose and tangled over his face. Laurance’s fingers hovered close to his freckles. “It’s _almost_ as if you actually care about what I think of you!”

_“Do you hear me!?”_ Garroth yelled, shoving Laurance’s face into the snow. “I don’t _care_ about you! I feel nothing but _hatred_ when I hear your name! Get it through your head!”

“Coward!” Laurance spat, teeth bared. “Figure yourself out before you start attacking me for _telling it how it is!”_

“You - fucking - prick!” Garroth’s fist connected with his cheek. A sharp crack splintered from his nose. Another hit, and blood sprayed, spatters of a red sunset in the snow. Laurance yelled curses and jerked his knees into Garroth’s stomach. He rolled back, gritting his teeth.

“I’m trying to protect Aphmau!” Laurance shouted, holding his nose. His cupped hands pulled away, glistening with the blood against his cheek. “I’m trying to protect Phoenix Drop! Isn’t that what you want!?”

Garroth didn’t know what he wanted, and he was having a Hell of a difficult time figuring it out with Laurance distracting him. Why did he have to be… _like that?_

“I want you to shut up, for a change. That’d be _nice!”_ Garroth drew his sword. 

Laurance pulled his emerald blade from behind his back, short hair tousled by wind and snow. His dark blue eyes gleamed. Garroth paused, suddenly lost. Laurance was attractive, he dared to admit for the first time, and confident. He had weaseled his way into Phoenix Drop, threatening everything that Garroth loved. _Who gave him the right to do this to me?_

“Filthy fucking Shadow Knight,” he spat, hating every second that he spent looking at Laurance as something other than an enemy _._ The second he began to consider him as more than that was when Garroth would be sure he was losing his grip on reality.

Laurance’s hands were around his throat. 

Terror flooded through him as he stumbled. Was this what Laurance had felt like in so many other fights? But this time, as they fell onto the ground, locked in their clawing and hitting, Garroth was sure that this was real. 

Laurance wanted to hurt him. And despite himself, he wanted to hurt Laurance, too. 

Fingernails tore at his neck as he kicked into Laurance’s stomach, trying to hold him onto the ground long enough to subdue him. Blood trickled down his chin, spattering onto Laurance’s cheek. Their faces were so close that Garroth could feel Laurance’s breath, jagged and uneven.

_Stop, stop, stop. Aphmau wouldn’t want this!_

From the way that Laurance hesitated slightly, he could tell that his enemy was thinking the same thing. Aphmau, the thread that somehow both tied them together and kept them apart. 

The thread that was frayed and broken. 

They wrestled on the ground, Garroth’s sword lifted. Laurance’s grip tightened around his neck. Each one daring the other to strike first.

Laurance’s legs connected with Garroth’s stomach and with a shout of surprise, Garroth fell onto his back. Winded, he lay there, screaming at himself to get up but unable to muster the energy. His sword tumbled away. Laurance instantly crashed onto him, making his breathing shudder. 

His heart began doing backflips. 

Laurance leaned close to his cheek, clearly enjoying his panic, hands braced on either side of his head. Into his ear, he whispered, “Why don’t you stop denying the truth?” 

He stood up, brushing the snow off his shirt and jacket. Spots of blood from his nose dripped onto Garroth’s cheeks.

Garroth couldn’t tell what he meant. 

If it was about his father’s tyranny, and the title he had inherited, or something _deeper_. 


	14. episode fourteen

  
  


The snow grew frenzied as Aphmau sat atop her horse, trying to keep her legs as motionless as possible. But the uneven trot of her horse through the thick snow was bouncing her legs, making her wince. She wasn’t the most experienced rider, made clear from the way she refused to release her grip on the reins, sitting rigid and uncomfortable. But she was determined to endure it.

“We can turn back,” Dante suggested. He was relaxed as he guided his mount through the snow, obviously comfortable on horseback. “Perhaps Garroth was right…”

“No.” She narrowed her eyes, gritting her teeth. Logan and Donna needed her. The newest member of their party, Malachi, needed her.

She could feel their eyes on her. Watching, waiting for her to make a mistake. To stop smiling. It was growing exhausting, having a Lord’s responsibility, but she wanted to fight to keep it. To keep them safe, she would suffer. For her friends, she would bear any burden Irene threw at her. 

Waking up alone in nothing but her own skin and rags, the heat bearing down on her back, she had felt…  _ nothing. _

Perhaps that was scarier than anything else she had faced so far. She had awoken in a dark, sheltered, unfamiliar neck of the woods - to the East of Phoenix Drop - with no one in sight, and had felt nothing but peace. A mortal, blissful kind of ease. As soon as it had begun, the strange sensation vanished, and then a new terror emerged. 

She didn’t know anything. No memories, no childhood, no friends or family or anything remotely familiar to her. If there had ever been anything there, it was gone into oblivion. 

Nothing to fight for. No one to defend. 

But then she had found Phoenix Drop. 

  
  


_ It was a gangly teenager with curly brown hair peeking through his armour that pointed a sword at her. It took a moment for her to feel threatened, and leaned away from the blade as it occurred to her that it was dangerous. The world seemed to be moving in slow-motion.  _

_ She swayed slightly; the boy darted back.  _

_ She crouched on the grass, inspecting herself with wary curiosity. Wearing nothing but her undergarments and loosely shredded rags, barely covering her dark skin, but she did not feel a shred of insecurity. She ran her hands through her curls. _

_ “Hey, lady!” he hissed, jabbing his sword towards her face. “Don’t you try to be innocent with me! I can see right through you.”  _

_ When she didn’t respond, he prodded her with the toe of his boot, eyes gleaming through his mask. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” _

_ In the distance, a deeper male voice called out. “Zenix?”  _

_ “Garroth!” the teen shouted back, practically hopping with excitement. “I found something!” _

_ A moment later, a second guard crashed through the foliage, wearing thick armour and a helmet covering his face. “Zenix, wha…?”  _

_ He angled his head towards her. She wearily lifted her head, suddenly overwhelmed by the eyes on her. She leaned into the grass. _

_ “Zenix, didn’t you think to give her your cloak? She’s wearing nothing but rags!”  _

_ The teen seemed unsure, then dropped his red coat onto her. When she didn’t react, the older man leaned down to fasten it around her. “Greetings, lady…?”  _

_ She fumbled for something to say, but no title seemed to… fit. What could she call herself? Who was she, really?  _

_ When it became clear she wouldn’t respond, the man cleared his throat awkwardly.  _

_ “I am Garroth, head guard of Phoenix Drop, and this is my apprentice, Zenix. Do you need our assistance?”  _

_ She wasn’t sure if she needed help, but she wanted it. She wanted to learn more, to know everything she could about herself, explore this strange new life. Why couldn’t she remember a damn thing about herself? Some kind of memory burned at the tip of her tongue, but fizzled away as she reached for it. “Y… yes.”  _

_ He seemed relieved to be hearing a response. “Here, let me help you.”  _

_ He allowed her to lean on his shoulder as she stood, gripping his arm tightly, legs wobbling like a baby animal. Impatiently, Zenix tugged at Garroth’s arm. _

_ “Garroth, are you sure this is the best idea? You don’t know who she is, where she’s from… how she could harm us!”  _

_ “No offense, Zenix, but I don’t think she could even hold a sword even if she wanted to.” He eyed her shaking legs, her quivering arms. The heavy exhaustion making her face hollow. “Are you just sad that she has your cloak?” _

_ “Hmph. Perhaps.”  _

_ “And besides, don’t be so quick to judge a stranger. Don’t you remember how you came to Phoenix Drop?”  _

_ “I’ll never forget it,” young Zenix said solemnly, the spark in his eyes dimming slightly. _

_ She already had a peculiar sense of connection running between the pair. It was clear that they trusted each other, and without even understanding what that meant, she was yearning for it. Without even knowing her own name, she wanted to be trusted, and liked. _

_ Her hands tightened on Garroth’s arm in determination, trying to muster the energy to walk. He turned his head towards her. _

_ Over the tips of the trees, against the midday sun, a city came into view. _

  
  


Aphmau’s horse stumbled and she let out a stifled whimper of pain, trying to right herself. She felt bulky and awkward on horseback, but Dante made it look so easy, cantering ahead slightly with his chin inclined, scanning the fields for signs of a village close by. 

She had grown so much since that day in the woods. She had earned her own name - shifted through words until she found something that clicked with her. She still didn’t truly have her own memories or past, but she had built that herself, built herself an empire of emotion and love in Phoenix Drop, so powerful that she would never have need for anything more than her home.

She would catch herself yearning for memories beyond her reach, but she would remind herself to be grateful of what she had both created and received. As a Lord, it was enough.

Dante wheeled his horse around and cantered towards her. Even his own mount was struggling in the snow, but he seemed so calm and in control that if he was concerned, she couldn’t tell. 

“This weather isn’t making this very easy,” he said, spiky hair bouncing as he came into earshot. “We need a higher vantage point.”

He grimaced, knowing that she was uncomfortable with heights. She followed his gaze upwards, to the rough, crumbling cliff to their right, and the curl of the mountain itself, like a massive ant mound. 

“Okay,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m okay. I can do this.” 

“There’s no shame in turning back,” Dante said awkwardly. 

“No!” She rubbed snow off of her face. “I’ll be  _ fine.” _

“Are you s-” 

“Yes.” She steered her horse onwards, wincing at the throbbing in her ankles. 

She knew that there would be a problem as they began climbing, horses struggling against the wind, and Aphmau realised that the incline was far steeper than she had anticipated. She struggled to grip the reins, wobbling in her saddle. 

“Dante?” she began nervously, shouting over the howling sky.

“It’s okay, I’m here. Follow my path!”

Dante spurred his mare into a canter and she took off, snow spitting from her trail. Aphmau nudged her horse after him, bouncing awkwardly in the saddle. Fear overwhelmed her as the ground shifted underneath her. She could see Malachi’s castle from a distance - it seemed so small. 

She was so high up. 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

Her horse paused up the hill, ears twitching, feeling her frantic tug at the reins in her panic. 

_ Oh, Irene, what does that mean?  _

_ Oh no, oh no… oh… _

There was a moment of silence. 

Then the world tilted on its side. Her horse skittered its hooves, rearing back. Aphmau let out a shrill scream as she tumbled into the snow. 

She fumbled for breath, fully winded, trying to keep her eyes and nose above the layers of snow. Her horse stumbled back, barely missing her body.

And bolted down the mountain.

“No, no, no! No! Come back!” 

In a smaller voice, feeling the abrupt pain in her legs crumpled beneath her, she let out a low cry. “For fuck’s sake.” 

_ Surely Dante would come back for her? Right?  _

_ Wouldn’t he?  _

“Dante!?” 

Her call was lost to the wind. 

She didn’t think she could move. 

She tightened her ponytail.

_ Come on. For Donna. For Logan. _

She hadn’t even liked Logan, at first. He had seemed like a selfish, snappish merchant. But Donna had become so infatuated with him and Aphmau thought of Donna as her sister. Logan had grown on her, admittedly - but here she was, putting her life in danger to save him. To save Donna. 

Saving everyone. That was kind of her thing, now.

_ Do it for them. _

Weeks ago - maybe even a month, now - Laurance had shouted at her for that exact thing. Frustrated by her putting the needs of others above her own.

_ Your responsibilities don’t define you, Aph. _

_ It’s hard to smile all the time, for everyone.  _

_ I know,  _ she thought.  _ I know. _

She hadn’t believed Laurance at the time. But she was beginning to understand his point. He was sick of smiling, too. Perhaps they all were. 

She gritted her teeth. Laurance and Garroth - if not for anyone else, she would do it for them. Even Dante, alone on the mountain, she felt a connection to. For them. She fumbled for the crutches on her back and placed them into the snow. 

Feeling her swollen ankles yell in protest, she lifted herself. Irene, the crutches hurt her arms and her ribs. 

But she managed to lift the weight from her legs and shift it to her arms. 

_ On the bright side, this’ll probably build some muscle.  _

_ And some bruises, but that’s not important. _

She figured that going downhill would be easier than uphill, so she would wait for Dante at the bottom. Then he was certain to find her sooner or later, and then perhaps everything would be fixed. Grunting, she began to haul herself through the snow, her feet dragging along the ground slightly.

At the foot of the mountain, there was no sign of Dante, or her horse, for that matter. She felt her way along the cliff, where the clumps of foliage and scarce pine trees provided slightly more cover.

Something screeched from the brush. 

She froze, then reasoned with herself awkwardly. No wolf or… threatening human would make such a noise. In fact, it sounded more like a bird or small mammal than anything. Besides, her curiosity would physically not allow her to keep herself safe and hidden, anyway.

Dante would tell her to not be foolish - so would Garroth. She was certain that Laurance would tell her to approach cautiously, but still investigate. 

What could go wrong? 

She peeled back the ferns and found a tiny white speckled owl, feathers thick and fluffy, laying in the snow. One leg was curled against its chest, wings beating awkwardly.

_ It’s just like me!  _

She felt a rush of sympathy and bent to scoop up the owl. To her surprise, it didn’t seem afraid, or even shocked to be touched. It nuzzled into her hand, as if familiar with being picked up. She eyed its leg. 

Laurance’s warning echoed in her mind. 

_ It’s an injured owl. I don’t see how being a decent person to an  _ **_owl_ ** _ could... _

A growl rippled through the open air. 

From the shadows stalked a werewolf - shaggy and grey, abnormally large, teeth jagged and cruel. It’s legs were bent at awkward angles, as if disproportionate. Round yellow eyes followed her every moment. 

_ A wild wolf. This couldn’t possibly get any worse.  _

The beast raised itself on its hind legs. 

_ Fuck.  _

It lunged. Blindly, Aphmau swung one crutch, the wood catching it on muzzle and cheek. A sharp rush of satisfaction flowed through her. Blood sprayed. She wasn’t the most skilled of fighters, but even her guards would be proud of her. Adrenaline made her lower her legs to the ground, bent slightly, and as it circled her, she held a crutch out like a sword, guarding herself.

_ Garroth and Laurance would be proud.  _

The wolf snapped at her chest and she flung the crutch out, sending it stumbling back. 

As it whimpered, she blinked. 

Guilt coursed through her. This was a werewolf - she  _ knew  _ werewolves. This stranger was like Bodolf. Like Lowell. It made her hesitate, and that was enough time for it to tilt its head back and erupt in a gritted, broken howl. The owl, twitching and shaking at her feet with feathers fluffed to seem bigger, had attracted the attention of the werewolf. As it nipped its jaws in the bird’s direction, a second werewolf crashed on all fours out of the foliage. She heard heavy pawsteps crunching on the snow behind her. 

Her crutch could do nothing against three. 

Panic took hold of her. Where was Dante? 

_ I need you. _

She didn’t want to admit to needing help but Irene, she did.

_ Irene, please, please, do something. Anything at all. _

A werewolf crashed into her and sent her sprawling into the snow and she screamed shrilly, feeling one leg crumple beneath her. Hot breath spilled onto her face, teeth snapping at her face. Another took hold of her sleeve and began to shake it like a piece of prey. 

_ Please. _

Teeth caressed her cheek.

_ Please! _

A blade erupted from the chest of the wolf holding her down. 

Blood spilled onto her chest and flowed into the snow, staining her. She let out a cry of disgust as the body slumped onto her, pelt heavy and matted. She struggled to crawl out, gasping for air, hands dragging herself through the blood pitifully.

She reached for her crutch discarded in the snow next to her, and swore as she found it in two pieces. The other was nowhere in sight.

The other wolf fell and the third bolted, whining in protest. A shadowed figure reached down, and pulled his blade from the body. A giant broadsword, glowing with power.

A man strode out of the shadows. She saw his boots halt in front of her, and he bent down with a disgusted noise. His face was masked by a red strip of fabric, hooded, jacket opened. His chest was heavily scarred. Aphmau wondered, bleakly, through the pain, if he was cold.

“You,” he said, scowling deeply. “Were you bitten?” 

“No.” 

“Let me see.” 

With rough hands, he grabbed her face and turned it, looking over her neck and chest briefly. 

She tried to swat him away, but slumped down. The terror of battle wearing off, she could feel her legs crying with pain.

“I  _ said,  _ I didn’t get bitten.” 

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t want to stick around and see you turn, anyway. You should be more careful. There are more wolves out here than ever before.” 

She sat up cautiously, legs limply folded underneath her. “I-I-” 

“And don’t let owls distract you, either.” 

Howling erupted over the fields from far away. 

“You’d better get out of here,” the stranger said, calm despite the helpless fear lingering in her eyes. If he could tell that she was injured, or even cared, he didn’t show it. He twirled his sword thoughtfully, and disappeared into the snow storm. 

“I can’t.” Her voice was met with silence.

Alone. Dante wouldn’t find her. Laurance and Garroth were still at the castle. 

No one would come to save her. 

Aphmau bit her lip and began to crawl. Dragging herself through the snow. Numbing herself with the cold. 

_ Keep going. _

_ Keep smiling. _

Blood dribbled down her chin.

_ Go.  _

She could not. 

As she lay there, a faint light flickered to life over her heart.

And it began to grow. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Wolves!” 

Garroth charged up the stairs, disturbing the bitter silence. Laurance had been perfectly content to seethe on his own, hating himself for the ugly words he had spat but somehow enjoying them, too. He knew fully well that he had been out of control, provoking Garroth. But his concerns were fully valid, even if his methods were… slightly flawed.

It had almost been kind of fun to see Garroth so flustered. 

Almost.

“At the castle,” Garroth panted. “They’ve been howling, and now… they’re here.” 

Laurance looked at him pointedly. Had Garroth merely forgotten the entire fight that they had just had? He even had the bruises to prove it. He pressed his hand to his cheek and nose, scowling deeply. Okay, so maybe he had deserved it. It still stung. And of course, he would blame Garroth for it. 

Garroth  _ had  _ forgotten. For a moment, he flushed, then gritted his teeth. “I’m just telling you to _ hide,  _ for Irene’s sake.” 

“I don’t believe that there’s any  _ real  _ danger.” The tension hanging in the air was brittle. Laurance straightened his jacket. “You’re just being paranoid, as usual.” 

Furious howling erupted from downstairs. “On second thought, hiding would be great!” 

They bolted up the stairs, trying desperately to keep their footsteps light. They were almost to a room when Laurance stopped, and swore to himself. 

_ Malachi.  _

“Malachi?” he hissed, looking around. “Malachi!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Garroth whispered. “I am not getting killed because of your ghost kid!” 

_ Where are they? _

  
He heard a faint bird call from above him. Looking up, Malachi’s shimmering form balanced over the crossbeams above their heads, looking concerned.

Laurance motioned to them.  _ Stay up there!  _

Malachi clung to the beam.

Snarls and snuffling arose from downstairs. After a moment, pawsteps sounded on the stairs. 

_ Shit.  _ **_Shit_ ** _. _

He flung himself into an ancient looking wardrobe and a hand instantly fumbled onto his bruises.

“Fuck off, this is my hiding spot!” 

“It’s  _ our  _ hiding spot now - and  _ ow? Do you mind?”  _

The space was clearly not built for hiding, and certainly not for more than one person. Garroth shoved Laurance off him - the door shuddered. “Stop that -” 

“I don’t want you - near me -” 

“Deal with it!” 

A jagged howl rose right outside. Instantly, dozens of pawsteps sounded in the corridor. They froze, Laurance practically sitting on Garroth. He could feel his heartbeat, frantic. Although he had an excuse in the shape of wolves snuffling right outside the door.

“What would you do if I just… y’know…” 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” 

Garroth’s hands wrapped over his mouth. “Don’t fucking say a word.” 

“I could legally do anything to you and you can’t make a noise,” he mumbled against his palm. 

“I will literally throw you to those wolves out there.”

A nose pressed against the door and began snuffling furiously. Then Laurance truly did shut up, and he had the feeling that Garroth could hear his own heartbeat in return and was faintly amused.

“Scared?” he whispered. 

“You should be grateful,  _ Ro’meave.  _ Not many get the opportunity to get so close and personal with Laurance.” 

“Okay, Mr.  _ no-first-kiss _ , calm down.”

“You can change that anytime, you know.”

The pawsteps retreated. Garroth swatted Laurance’s hand away from his hips hastily. 

“You fucker. Have you forgotten what I did to your cheek?”

“It looks good,” Laurance whispered. “Very pretty.” 

“You won’t be pretty for long if you don’t shut up.” 

“So you admit I was pretty before?” 

Garroth fell quiet, grinding his teeth in frustration. Laurance thought he was even trying to fight his amusement. 

“Shut up,” he muttered. “I don’t want to hear another word from you tonight.” 

“Are they still here?”

“Searching the whole castle, probably.”

Laurance swore lightly, finger tapping Garroth’s nose lazily. “I sure do love getting stuck with this prick I know called Garroth Ro’meave!” 

Garroth shoved him against the wall. There was not enough room to draw swords, but he could sense his hand lingering close to his throat, the other braced alongside him. Their chests brushed, nose to nose. Laurance could not shy away. Just as he had done in the courtyard. 

Garroth stared him down. Their previous fight had come to haunt him. Joy.

“Don’t test me,” Garroth snarled. “I won’t hesitate to give you more than those bruises next time you insult me.” 

“Oh, baby,” Laurance crooned, knowing it would piss him off, “we’ve barely begun.” 


	15. episode fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied domestic abuse in this chapter!

  
  


They waited in that cramped, dusty space for what felt like an eternity, pressed against each other, breathing tight and gritted. Garroth braced his hands on the wall behind him. He was so close that he could feel Laurance’s breath on his neck and could see the defined curl of his bruises, vibrant despite the dark wardrobe. At first, he felt a shred of guilt.

_ I did that to him.  _

But then he remembered how Laurance had jeered and taunted at him, begging for a fight, accusing him of being the exact same as his father. His remorse vanished. 

He refused to be anything like Garte.

Laurance would never provoke that out of him.

But yet… hadn’t he lunged at Laurance? Hadn’t he been the one to give him those delicate bruises lingering before his eyes? Hadn’t he been goaded into violence, turning his vision yellow until all he could see was  _ Laurance  _ and his filthy words?

Perhaps he was right… 

Perhaps Aphmau deserved to know what Garte was capable of - and why Garroth had been hiding from his identity for so long, shying away from not only his name but his own self.

He couldn’t believe that he had  _ Laurance  _ of all people to thank for that realisation. He gritted his teeth, guiding Laurance’s head away from him. “Don’t get too cozy.” 

“But isn’t this just  _ so  _ romantic?” he sneered. 

“I am going to make a list of things I’d rather do than be this close to you. One: eat glass. Two: get eaten by wolves-” 

“ _ Please _ . You can’t  _ resist  _ me.” 

“Ah. Because I’m currently cuddling you by  _ choice _ .”

“Don’t even deny that you like this.” Laurance’s fingertips traced his sides, making him shiver. 

_ “Stop that!”  _

“What? This? Does this make you…  _ uncomfortable?”  _

Light breathing grazed over his collarbone and Garroth jumped, cheeks burning.  _ “Stop it!”  _

“You’re pretty sensitive,” Laurance mused, but faintly, even his teasing seemed half-hearted, as if something else was burdening him. As Garroth leaned away, Laurance turned his head slightly, scowling suddenly, as if only just remembering his hatred for him. 

The door whined from downstairs. They paused for a moment, listening intently. There were no pawsteps or snuffling at all. In the distance, out in the snow, a new howl arose from the silence.

“I think they’re gone,” Garroth whispered. 

A long, hesitant silence followed that announcement. Laurance slowly unravelled himself from Garroth, quietly, in case danger was still close by. “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“Oh? Just a minute ago, you were saying how much I liked your… er…” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, freckles. You’re only slightly above average handsomeness.” 

“Slightly?” Garroth had the sense to be vaguely offended by that, although he was deliberately ignoring the implication that he was handsome in the first place.

“You know, you’ve got that buff, mysterious tough guy act going on,” Laurance continued, tentatively opening the wardrobe to peek outside. “But you know, your puppy eyes and freckles just ruin the whole vibe. Plus, your  _ pretty little curls.” _

“Ruins the vibe?” he echoed, gaping in disbelief. “You think I’d be attractive if not for my… freckles and my…?” 

“Puppy dog eyes.” 

“But I’m above average for… er… handsomeness?” 

“Mhm.”

Laurance seemed to realise what he had said, leaning out into the corridor, and slipped with a muffled cry onto the floor. Garroth barely stifled his laugh.

“No,” he mumbled onto the wooden floor. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t go thinking that that meant  _ anything.”  _

“Oh, no, it’d be a shame if I actually took anything you said seriously.”

Laurance looked up at him, bruise bright and striking. His nose was slightly crooked. He winced, fingers tentatively pressing against his injury. “Shit, that hurts.” 

“I’m not sorry,” Garroth blurted. Laurance paused, cocking his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I know.” 

With that intense, burning gaze, Garroth couldn’t tell if Laurance was seeing the fabled tyrant of O’khasis or the Head Guard of Phoenix Drop. Garte. Garroth. With Laurance’s suspicions, he was feeling more and more like his father.

It frightened him. 

Who else recognised him for every similarity he shared with Garte? Initially, he had panicked about sharing the same features as Zane, but now he saw that had never been the problem. They both shared Garte’s features, Garroth more than his brother. Perhaps that was part of the reason both he and his brother tended to wear masks, some more metaphorical than others. 

  
  


_ He was still calling Zane his little brother, simply because he was smaller and skinnier despite being the same age, and Zane hated it. His freckles crinkled as he scowled. They were in their favourite hiding place, the pair of them cross legged under thick blankets, wearing sweaters a few sizes too big. Zane was rolling a piece of fabric in his hands.  _

_ “A gift from father,” he explained, showing it to Garroth.  _

_ “What is it?” _

_ He actually seemed quite proud of it. It was a pale white and black mask, matching the robes that their father wore. Zane glanced over it doubtfully; Garroth was familiar with it. Garte had always been fond of little Garroth, his lookalike, sharing his light hair. The only thing he bore of his mother were his freckles - the thing that both Zane and Garroth shared. Garte had given Garroth a mask too, a white and gold one, a few weeks ago, but he had put it into his drawers and never worn it. Not because he didn’t want to disrespect his father - Garte had already yelled at him for that - but because he didn’t want to cover his freckles. _

_ “Put the damn mask on!” Garte’s fist had hit the wardrobe next to him.  _

_ Garroth had not, but he had paid the price. That’s what he earned for disobeying orders, he supposed. His father had never been so strict before his illness, but something had changed when he woke up with that fever fading. _

_ Perhaps he had given up on Garroth, and instead turned to Zane, who now held his own mask in his fingers, eyes glittering. “Cool!”  _

_ He turned to Garroth. “Didn’t you get one?”  _

_ Garroth knew in an instant that he didn’t want to break it to Zane that he had received and rejected his own weeks prior.  _

_ “No.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.  _

_ His brother put on the mask, hiding his dark freckles. He used his hands to make his hair messy, and spread his arms. “Whaddya think!?” _

_ In fact, he didn’t look bad at all. He was still short, but hiding his youthful, eager expressions made him seem well into his teenage years rather than barely 12. He even seemed somewhat threatening. Garroth clapped admirably.  _

_ He removed the blanket so Zane could study himself in an old, intricately carved mirror in the corner. He watched his younger brother scampering and preening in the mirror, far more confident and relaxed than he had been before. Perhaps the mask made him feel safer.  _

_ A loud crash erupted from downstairs and they both jumped. Garroth wrapped the blanket around himself, and Zane skittered back to him, crawling underneath.  _

_ “I’m not scared,” he said hotly.  _

_ “Neither,” said Garroth. “We’re brave.” _

_ Muffled shouting downstairs made them hesitate, doubting themselves. Zane pressed closer to Garroth, and removed his mask. His mom was having a baby - another brother or sister for him! Garroth couldn’t help but feel excited, but every time he looked at his father, eyes darkened like storm clouds, he wondered if that was wrong. Perhaps their family wasn’t supposed to grow.  _

_ He did that a lot with his dad. Second-guessing himself. Doubting what he thought was true. But yet, he was all he could see himself growing up to be.  _

_ The yelling grew frenzied. Garroth wrapped the blanket around both of them, sheltering both himself and his brother from the noise.  _

**_We’re brave._ **

  
  


Even at 12, he had not recognised exactly what destruction Garte was projecting onto his family, and he regretted every day that he had not understood. He could have done something. 

Did Laurance see Garte in him?

No. He refused. He would be better than that,  _ anything  _ but that. Laurance would always see some distorted, blurred image of him, but Irene help him, it would  _ not  _ look like his father. 

A ghostly shape dropped to the floor in front of them and crashed into Laurance’s arms. “The wolves are gone!”

“Malachi! Thank Irene you’re safe!” Laurance exclaimed. “Ouch, careful with the bruises!” 

“Oh!” Their starlit gaze narrowed slightly, and for the first time, Garroth thought of how long Malachi had been in the castle for. They still had a youthful, naive body, and the scars of a damaged childhood, but they had seen the world shift and change beyond them. “What happened!?”

Laurance hesitated, then grinned despite the pain he was clearly in. “Garroth.” 

“What? Why? Why would you fight?” 

“It was only for fun,” Garroth cut in smoothly, bending down on one knee. “I didn’t mean to do it at all - I got carried away. But that doesn’t mean that the reason behind it is irrelevant.” 

He shot Laurance a deliberate glare. 

Malachi nodded solemnly. “Okay, okay. Good. I’d hate if my dads were fighting for real.” 

Garroth spluttered.  _ Dads?  _

Their gaze was tentative, as if asking for them to confirm, begging for them to be there for them.

Laurance widened his eyes slightly, but did not protest, willing to preserve Malachi’s longing for parents, filling the hole that had been empty for so many years. Years without parents. 

What had Laurance said about a rough upbringing?    
  
_ Fuck, I was out of line. Sure, we both were, but I…  _

_ I grew up with  _ **_Garte_ ** _. I should have been more… I don’t know, reasonable? _

He forced a smile, patting Malachi’s back. “Your dads would never fight.” 

Laurance was barely able to hide his surprise - and grudging acceptance. He picked Malachi up and swung them around, gaze shining. “Do you hear that, Malachi? You’ll never be alone ever again.” 

And perhaps, Garroth thought, that was why Laurance had bonded so strongly to Malachi in the first place. He had just been too blind to recognise it - the desire for a strong, stable father figure. He hadn’t realised that they shared it. And Malachi had finally found what they needed; Laurance too. The glow in his gaze conveyed all of the affection for his adopted child, and it was clear that he was happy to assume a parental role of guidance and love. 

If Malachi needed a father, they had Laurance. Garroth swallowed for a moment, then swore to himself - he would never be like his father; he would be a Hell of a better dad. After all, he had helped Aphmau with Levin every so often. He wasn’t  _ totally  _ useless with children. 

Probably a better Dad than Laurance. Not to turn everything into a competition, but…

“Now that the wolves are gone, can we… can we go back outside? Into the snow?” Malachi beamed hopefully.

Garroth straightened before Laurance could answer. “Of course we can.” 

Laurance’s eyes conveyed everything that Garroth needed to know. The thrill of battle was upon them. Malachi wanted their family, and it was a family that they would provide. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


_ There had been some crisis at the borders, and Dante had been called away, as Head Guard, to deal with it. His stoic, confident presence was gone, leaving an empty hole in its wake where Dante expected something familiar. In his quiet panic, he had cut his hair again.  _

_ This time, when he put down the scissors and confronted himself in the mirror, he forced his lip not to quiver. He had learned to expect that same face reflected in every piece of glass, had not yet been able to accept it but only tolerate it. He touched his face. His lip quivered slightly, but he forced himself not to display any kind of terror. He had moved beyond that.  _

_ He didn’t look the same. Had he always been so…  _

_ Empty?  _

_ His face didn’t belong to him. He felt as if he was confronting a stranger in the mirror.  _

_ Where was Gene?  _

_ Was he ever coming back? _

_ Would Dante be left alone? All things he struggled to comprehend.  _

_ As if he was a mere kid again, he had crawled into the childhood room that he and Gene had shared, and sat there quietly. Gene had taught him how to breathe. How to control fear. _

_ In.  _

_ Out.  _

_ It was difficult to not let it consume him. He wanted to expect the worst. Mostly, he was seething at himself for being such a baby, seeking comfort in the past. He was  _ **_12_ ** _ now, for Irene’s sake. If he ever wanted to be like Gene, he would have to grow up eventually, right? Had to grasp some sense of maturity.  _

_ Of course, Gene arrived safely back into town, but it then took him an extra hour to discover Dante crouched in that room, knees to his chest, eyes on the wall.  _

_ “Hey, it’s okay,” Gene said calmly. “I was so scared in battle today.”  _

_ “W...What happened?”  _

_ “Not important. What’s important is that I’m here. And that I can admit to being scared.”  _

_ “No way,” Dante protested weakly, voice cracking. “You’re the bravest person I know.” _

_ Gene scoffed, waving him off, but his smile was smug. “Not at all. I’ve just learned how to interact with my anxiety.” _

_ “Teach me,” Dante begged, clutching at Gene’s arms. “Please.” _

_ “Not so fast!” Gene reached into the bag around his shoulder and pulled out a small, silky package. “I brought home a gift for you.”  _

_ Dante’s eyes rounded slightly. He sat forward.  _

_ Out of the fabric he drew out a golden chain, an intricately carved charm dangling from the end - an amulet, catching the edge of the sunlight slicing through the window. _

_ “This is for you,” he said, dropping it into Dante’s open palm. “If you ever get scared, Dante, use this communication amulet. I’ll come fight the monsters away.” He held up an identical pair with a thin smile. Dante hugged his brother.  _

_ “I want to learn to fight,” he begged. “Like you. I have an amulet now, so I’ll never be scared again.”  _

_ Gene raised his eyebrow.  _

_ “I want to be a guard like you.”  _

_ Gene lifted him onto his feet and rubbed his hair playfully.  _

_ “Oh, Dante,” he said calmly. “You will be.”  _

  
  


Dante shuffled into the travelling camp, eyes dejected. He had lost her - the one thing he had been assigned to protect. The woman glowing with passion and power. He had sworn to himself that he would not fail - once, it had been his dream to be a guard. 

What kind of guard was he if he failed his assigned Lord?

_ A shitty one, apparently. _

He didn’t dare to admit that he was afraid. She had no amulet. She had nothing to tell him that she was scared and alone somewhere, waiting for him. He had abandoned her - but in the snow and wind, he hadn’t seen her. He was practically blind. He had reached the peak of the mountain and found himself alone in the elements. Her horse was nowhere in sight. He found blood stains at the foot of the mountain and feared the worst. 

Had she crawled away to die somewhere? Dante had a habit of assuming the worst, but he couldn’t help but think of that from the excessive amounts of blood.

He heard stifled whispers from close by. The travellers were watching him closely, monitoring the new threat. Taking in his uneven hair, his baggy clothes, the scar on his right cheek. Placing their bets on if he would cause trouble. If he would be their next source of entertainment.

He crouched close to the campfire, warming his hands in the glow, light casting half of his face in flickering shadow. His gaze wandered - to the scruffy, grimy man locked in a conversation with a dark-skinned, curly haired woman. She turned her head slightly, glancing to him for the first time. 

_ Aphmau!? _

She stood up, and she did so with no pain or limp whatsoever. Her eyes were clear as she sprinted to him and wrapped him in a hug, arms gripping his back. Through the gaps in a thick black coat, he glimpsed blood. 

“Aphmau, what - where - are you okay!?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Then what-” 

She gestured to herself helplessly. “It’s kind of a long story, but I’ll explain everything.” 

“You-” 

He couldn’t seem to comprehend that she was safe, and well. It seemed impossible. How could that be? 

Her legs were unblemished by injury. She must have found a healer, then!

“Come and sit down,” she said, taking him by the hand. “I have a lot to tell you.” 


	16. episode sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter is now going to come with a song from the official playlist featuring songs for characters, scenes or simply vibes from the fic! Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1UBE7QqznoAFuBE1Kf9uHz?si=y8q0NwCLQYmrcOUiM3ebCA 
> 
> The song for this chapter is Snow by Ricky Montgomery!

  
  


Dante was quiet. Granted, he was always quiet, but Aphmau couldn’t possibly decipher if he believed her or not. He navigated his horse easily towards Malachi’s castle keeping watch in the distance, awkwardly sitting behind him with her arms around his waist to avoid falling off. 

She had not mentioned the stranger, and even now, riding silently, she did not know why she hadn’t. It felt… secret, or at least disobedient to reveal that someone else was still hanging around in the snow. She hadn’t seen him in the travellers camp. An awkward curiosity still burned at her - who was he? Why was he masked? He handled his broadsword as if quite familiar with battle, and had abandoned her in the snow without a flicker of remorse or regret.

She wasn’t sure if Dante could believe that she had fought off a werewolf - for she had only mentioned one rather than three - but if he had suspicions he was too shy or polite to voice them. He was also under the impression that she had found a healer in the traveller’s camp to perform strange and unfamiliar magicks on her leg.

She was miraculously and mysteriously healed.

As far as she was concerned, what she told Dante was the truth. 

There had been no strange, desperate white light. She hadn’t passed out in the snow, and she  _ certainly  _ hadn’t woken up with her legs healed. 

No. She refused to acknowledge anything of the sort.

Dante didn’t need to know that, anyway, if only to spare him from realising that he was guarding a liar and a coward. 

Behind them, following their trail, Damian Yale trotted along on a small spotted pony. She had found the monk sitting by the campfire in the travellers camp and, ironically enough, he was one of the only truthful elements of her story. That, and the owl quivering in her coat pocket. She reached to stroke its feathers and it gave a delicate shiver.

“Heya, missy, you haven’t introduced me to your boyfriend!” 

Aphmau gritted her teeth, turning around. Dante stifled a quiet laugh, busy guiding his horse through the snow. 

“Yeah. Uh,  _ no. _ Dante isn’t my boyfriend. Unfortunately.”

“What do you mean,  _ unfortunately?”  _ Dante joked. “Something to tell me, Aphmau?” 

“I don’t know, you can fight, that’s pretty attractive.” 

“So I know what  _ your  _ type is.” 

“Aw, that’s cool, you’re still young, like,” Damian said giddily. Aphmau had seen the bottle in his hand by the campfire, and she wasn’t inclined to judge him - except for the fact that he needed to be sober enough to free Malachi. “You can wait before you confess your love to each other, y’know? I had to learn that the hard way-”

“Yes, thank you, Damian.” 

If Aphmau had had any other options, she would not have chosen Damian. She had been warned that he was… extroverted, in a way, but no other monk was around for miles. He was Malachi’s last hope, and so she put her faith in him and his ability to free the ghost of the castle. 

She prayed it was the right decision. Being a leader, a Lord, she couldn’t help but doubt herself for every choice she made, every path she took. There were always eyes on her, always people depending on her, always the responsibility. The burden. Even now, she dreaded arriving and seeing the dejected look in Malachi’s eyes when they realised that Damian could do nothing for them. 

_ No. That can’t happen. _

They arrived at the gates. Laurance and Garroth were already surprised, and Aphmau was surprised to see them both leaning against the cobbled walls, a reasonable distance apart, but… they weren’t exactly killing each other! She grinned, taking out the owl and holding it in her hands, stroking it soothingly.

Malachi was tumbling around in the snow, giggling, but looked up as they heard the crunching of hooves in the snow. Their face lit up seeing Aphmau and Dante on one horse, and did not falter seeing Damian, nodding contentedly. The older man’s eyes were bright as he took in the castle, running his hands along the gate.

Garroth let them in. “Welcome back,” he said, grasping her hand tightly. Laurance pushed off the wall and strode towards her. 

His cheek was dappled indigo and black. Dried blood crusted his nose, and - was it  _ crooked _ ? She jumped, looking at the injury with shock. How… why… 

Garroth suddenly looked at his feet awkwardly. 

_ You’ve got to be kidding me. _

“Oh, Irene,  _ Laurance _ .” She took his face in her hands, investigating. He flinched away from her touch. “What the Hell happened to you!?” 

“Er… I tripped.”

“You  _ tripped.”  _

“Uh-huh.” 

Damian half-fell off his pony and hauled himself to his feet, eyes locked onto Malachi. The child scampered up to him, form flickering. 

“You- you look - familiar-” 

Damian grinned, and seized Malachi’s small hand in his own suddenly. 

“Hey!” Laurance said hotly. “Watch it!” 

“You,” said Damian, hair wild and eyes round with eagerness. Malachi pulled away, but Damian held tight. “I’ve finally found you!”

“Hey, wait-” Aphmau cut in, filled with a sense of dread. 

“Let them go!” Laurance burst out. 

Dante shoved Aphmau behind her, shielding her from the white glow that erupted from Damian and Malachi. Her eyes burned and watered and tears streamed down her cheeks. 

The light faded. 

Malachi was curled in the snow, blinking furiously. 

Laurance tried to go to them, but Damian held out his palms so commandlingly that everyone froze. 

Watching with wide eyes. 

“Malachi,” Damian said. His voice seemed to clear. “I am Damian Yale. Almost ten decades ago my descendant, Thomas Yale, pushed you off a balcony and killed you.” 

_ Ten decades. _

Laurance and Garroth exchanged a silent gaze of shock. Ten decades alone in a castle, haunting those who came prying with their fears.

_ It must have been awful. _

She was grateful that Malachi had found their place in the world, with them, but her heart fluttered for their past and what they had suffered. It seemed…  _ unfair _ . How could Irene have allowed such a thing to happen? How had Malachi deserved anything that had happened to them?

“I’ve been searching for you for a long time.”

Malachi offered no reply. Their form seemed…  _ clearer _ , although still ghostly, as if a layer of spirit had been washed away by whatever Damian had done to them.

“Wh… What have you done!?” Aphmau cried, stepping out from behind Dante. 

Damian had the sense to look confused. “Exactly what you paid me for. I freed him, didn’t I? Now…”

Malachi looked blearily up at him. 

“Malachi,” Damian said solemnly. “You died at the hands of my ancestor, Thomas… Back then, magicks were rare and, dare I admit it, feared. Your parents… they didn’t know what to do. They sent you to Thomas to try and heal you, to find out what they  _ thought  _ was wrong. Only because they didn’t understand. Your ability to show people their fears… it hunted your people into their nightmares beyond the daylight. That’s why your parents wanted Thomas to help you.” 

“B-But… they didn’t…” Malachi found their voice. 

“They were Lords, and your mothers’ worst fear was that they would have to… Irene forbid, execute you. So they sent you away so that they would never have to face that kind of terror.” 

Aphmau watched, feeling some kind of injustice burning and coiling within her. As a Lord, she… she couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t want to. It made her sick to think of abandoning a child. 

_ What if it had been Levin? Alexis? Would I do the same thing to protect them? _

“Wait-” Laurance said. 

“Shhh… shhh…” Damian hushed him. Garroth took a step forward, threateningly, and the old man carried on hastily.

“They loved you so much,” Damian continued, seeing the wary look in Malachi’s eyes. “Even Thomas wanted so badly to help you. But… but fate did not work that way… Thomas hadn’t meant to kill you when he pushed you.” 

“He still pushed a child. A scared child.” Where Aphmau had expected Laurance, it was Garroth who narrowed his eyes, voice merciless and cool. “Whether he meant to kill Malachi or not, that’s still  _ not okay.”  _

“I know, I know!” Damian protested. “I’m only telling Malachi everything I can.” 

“Get on with it, then,” Laurance snapped.

“Your parents put a curse on Thomas and his descendants - to sense such a disturbance in the world, to know your story. To try to mend it. Until Irene came to break it… but I could still hear Thomas weeping from the grave.” 

His gaze brightened.

“It’s gone now. The world is silent. I’m sorry for what happened to you, and I regret not being alive to mend it sooner. At least I can help you now. You, my dear child, are free.” 

For a moment, Malachi did nothing. Then they hugged Damian’s legs, trembling with pure excitement. The spell that had been binding them all to stillness seemed to vanish, and Laurance was the first to approach. He picked Malachi up into his arms and swung them around, laughing gleefully. Garroth watched from a safe distance. 

Aphmau quietly stood alongside Damian. “I underestimated you. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all, dear,” he said, bowing lopsidedly. “Good luck with… whatever you’re doing.” His gaze travelled around the party - Laurance, bruised but cradling Malachi. Malachi themselves, form sparkling with new energy. Garroth, tying his hair back, watching from a distance. Dante, quietly and awkwardly drumming his fingers on his sword. And finally Aphmau, shirt stained with dried blood underneath her coat. She let out a low, contented laugh. 

“Thank you.” 

“The world is at peace.” He gave her a long, strange look that she struggled to unravel. 

_ What is  _ **_that_ ** _ supposed to mean? _

She watched him hobble back to his pony and trot away, with the relaxed and slightly careless posture of a man who had fulfilled his life’s purpose. Fully satisfied. Aphmau wondered what it would feel like to feel such… peace. 

The monk disappeared. The gates were open. 

Laurance placed Malachi down. The ghost’s eyes were alight with a newfound fire, glowing with pure youthful excitement and innocence.

They charged, and the gates did nothing to throw them back. No more barriers, no more blocks. 

Just freedom. 

Malachi flew into the open fields with their arms outstretched, arms out as if clutching at the sky, soaring over swoops and mounds of the white earth. The world was theirs to explore once again.

After so many decades. 

Laurance tumbled into the open behind them. Dante cleared his throat, glancing at Aphmau. “We don’t have much time, if we want to save Logan.” 

“You’re right.”

Garroth tilted his chin. “Then let’s go.”

They began to pack their supplies and belongings - Garroth gathering Laurance’s, Aphmau noted with surprise, allowing Laurance and Malachi their precious time under the sun.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Their name is Owly!” Malachi said, making soft noises towards the tiny speckled owl in Aphmau’s hands. They had opted to walk to the wolf village rather than ride as so not to attract unwanted attention, but Laurance was already growing tired of using his legs.

No wolves came barreling through the snow to attack, but both Garroth and Dante had their swords drawn. Laurance didn’t know what to make of Dante. At first glance, the young man had seemed bumbling and awkward - as gangly as a teen, his hair shaggy and uneven. He was quiet, and when he did speak, it was usually serious. But he handled his weapons well, and Aphmau had taken a liking to him. Whoever Aphmau trusted, Laurance tended to trust by extension, and so he was willing to give Dante a chance.

He would make a good guard for Aphmau. He hated to admit that to himself, and Garroth would probably be disapproving, but they worked well together. Dante had been the one to shield Aphmau from Damian’s work. Not him. Not Garroth. 

“Owly?”

“Is it not a good name?” Malachi scampered around Aphmau’s legs, full of endless energy.

“No, no. It’s perfect.” 

Owly seemed perfectly comfortable in Aphmau’s coat pocket where it was warm and safe, and as she put him there, Malachi raced to Laurance, hopping up and down. 

“Look what I can do!” 

They sprinted to the peak of a small, snowy hill, and tumbled down it, shrieking with delight. Turning, Laurance caught Garroth’s expression twisted into a smile.

He realised that Laurance was watching and scowled.

_ Huh… _

“Very cool, Malachi!” Laurance said, clapping, but his eyes were on Garroth. The same man who had given him the new decoration on his face, the swirling storm cloud of bruises. The man who had called himself Malachi’s second father, and shot him a glare as if begging him to challenge that.

Laurance picked up a clump of snow and rolled it into a ball between his fingers. Garroth’s back was turned, scanning the field expertly, alert as ever. 

_ Wait… wait... _

His face turned slightly and was promptly hit with a snowball. 

“Agh! I- what-” 

He spun around frantically. Bits of ice were stuck to his blond hair and cheek, dripping wet. His eyes fell onto Laurance, who turned innocently.

“What’s the matter?” he cooed.

“I know that was you, prick!”

“It was Dante, actually.” 

The blue haired man spluttered, walking alongside Aphmau a little way ahead. He turned, raising his eyebrow. 

“It was not Dante,” Garroth said pointedly. “He’s not stupid enough to throw things at me.”

“Calling me stupid, eh?” 

“You are absolutely stupid enough to do something like that.”

“Hm? Prove it.” 

Malachi, figure covered in lightly melting snow from their adventure, ran to Garroth. Without a second thought, Garroth picked Malachi up and placed them on their shoulders, with a glare that suggested exactly what would happen if Laurance got closer. He snorted slightly, but had to admire the gesture. Garroth  _ actually  _ being a decent father? He wouldn’t expect that from a Ro’meave, but he supposed that Garroth was full of surprises. Still, it was far too easy to laugh at him.

Laurance, being ‘stupid’, darted closer, a fresh snowball in his hands.

Malachi squealed in delight.

Garroth leaned down to scoop up his own snow, only to be hit squarely in the chest. 

“You little-” 

He aimed for Laurance’s cheek and it landed squarely on the bruise, Laurance giving a sharp cry.  _ Irene, that stung like a bitch… _

For a moment, Garroth seemed openly concerned. He ventured closer, Malachi bouncing along, visibly entertained. “Oi, look at me.”

Laurance did. His blue eyes seemed to glow and shift under the grey sky.

“Did I hurt-”

Laurance smeared a wad of snow over his face, smiling smugly. “Yup. You did.” 

“Oh, I’ll  _ make  _ it hurt!” 

He reached for Laurance’s bruise and he swatted the hand away. Malachi raised their arms in the air as Garroth and Laurance grappled at each other’s wrists.

“Maybe you should kiss it better!” he crooned, turning his face to one side. 

“You’ll kiss  _ something,  _ alright!” Garroth shoved him and he stumbled. 

_ Oh, it’s on!  _

Laurance tackled him. Malachi jumped smoothly onto the snow and scrambled over to Aphmau, tugging on her sleeves. 

“They’re only playing, right?” 

“Er…” 

She flashed an awkward glance in their direction. Laurance bit into the air mockingly, inviting Garroth to finish what he started. 

_ Don’t be shy! _

Despite himself, he  _ did  _ feel playful. He felt like a teenager, reckless and bold, rolling around with his best friend without a care in the world. 

Garroth Ro’meave was no friend. 

But even Garroth grinned as he panted, as if he, too, had tricked himself into having fun. 

That made Laurance hesitate slightly. He sat with his legs folded underneath him.

Garroth’s cold finger traced Laurance’s bruise, tentative at first, just to see if he could, and then cupped the entirety of his black and purple cheek.

Laurance froze, fumbling for words or protest. It didn’t hurt, so much as… numb him. 

He was afraid to move. 

“My dads fight a lot,” Malachi was saying, peering up at Aphmau. “Is that okay?” 

Aphmau choked. 

The noise snapped Garroth from his trance and he drew away, gritting his teeth. Laurance scrambled back, swatting his hand away. He had willingly allowed Garroth to…

_ Ugh.  _

_ What’s  _ **_wrong_ ** _ with me? _

“Dads?” Aphmau said, fighting to keep her voice calm.

“Mhm. Why do they fight so much?” 

“I-” 

Laurance and Garroth simultaneously fixed Aphmau with warning glares, trying to quietly communicate. 

_ Don’t you dare tell them.  _

_ We’re their  _ **_family_ ** _.  _ He looked at Garroth pointedly. 

“Y… er… yes, that’s normal. They’re just being  _ playful.  _ Aren’t you, guys?” 

Reluctantly, they both nodded. 

Garroth got to his feet and dusted himself off awkwardly, and perhaps he could have pretended that he hadn’t meant to end the fight in such a way, his cheeks were bright red. 

Giving everything away.

Laurance flushed. 

_ Fucking Garroth and his… cold hands and his… stupid name. _

Another snowball hit his arm. Where he turned, Garroth’s name already hot on his tongue, he found a look of confusion.

“What the-” 

Dante leaned back, another snowball already in his hands, gaze completely calm.

Garroth and Laurance exchanged wary glances, as if questioning if they were even willing to work together. 

_ Eh. We’re already  _ **_parents._ ** _ What could be worse than that? _

Laurance was the first one to shrug as Malachi ran to them, already climbing onto Garroth’s shoulders as if preparing for war. Aphmau slid closer to Dante, ready to shield him.

“Oh, it’s on.” 


	17. episode seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is Out Like a Light 2 by The Honeysticks! Enjoy!

Dante had won the snowball fight, and he had no ill intentions towards either Garroth or Laurance - although, of course, he couldn’t fully trust them - but it had been satisfying to see them both crashed in the snow, chests heaving with silent laughter, wheezing slightly from the cold. As soon as it had begun, it was over, and they looked at each other with slight shame, and refused to be within a few metres of each other. 

Dante thought it was peculiar, how they hated each other, but once in a while caught themselves glancing in the other’s direction shyly, as if asking for attention. 

It was strange, and unfamiliar. Dante wasn’t used to the playful bickering and banter. Sometimes, they seemed to be on friendly terms, and Malachi referred to the pair as their ‘dads’, so there had to be  _ something  _ there. But Laurance nursed that thick, ugly bruise, and every time he looked at it, he was hurtling towards the conclusion that Garroth’s fists had done that, but he didn’t know how he knew. Perhaps it was the awkward, guilty way that Garroth was staring towards the injury, eyes gleaming of shame.

When? Why? 

Their private business didn’t involve Aphmau, so Dante didn’t want to care. Right? He was her guard, not theirs.

But he was, despite himself, intrigued in the little group and their dynamic. 

And envious. He had convinced himself to try. To try and have fun, to try and be less… serious. Gene had always told him to chin up, brighten up, because he would never be a guard if he frowned all the time. He had thrown snowballs - he had seen them land as if in slow motion. The world blurring past him in a flurry of light and sound and colour. He had even smiled. 

But he struggled to truly immerse himself in the moment. He had rescued Donna from the wolves, but he hadn’t been able to save Logan. Logan… 

Gene was not a tangible goal to strive for, no matter how much Dante yearned to have his brother back. Logan was alive, but barely.

Time was sinking to the bottom of the hourglass. The days were growing sharp and thin, the sun setting earlier and earlier. Running out of time.

Dante cleared his throat as they sheltered under a cluster of pine trees, short of breath, hands braced on their knees. 

“Let’s keep going.” He kept his face carefully neutral as he watched Garroth reach for Laurance’s cheek and get promptly swatted away.

Aphmau hesitated, pulling her thick hair back into a bun, noticing his grim expression, his impatience. He tapped the hilt of his sword with his fingers, unable to keep still. “How far away are we to the wolf village?”

“Not far,” he pressed. “Not far at all. We can make it tonight.”

“Does Logan have that long?”

It was his turn to hesitate. He focused on his hands. “Er…”

“We’ve been walking for a while,” she prompted. “Malachi might be tired. I think we all are. Night is falling, and… I don’t feel safe travelling at night with the wolves around.” 

He remembered, once again, how she had told him the story of how she had fought off a wolf with her crutches. The blood still stained her shirt to prove it. He was impressed with her - she was clearly strong and capable. But she still seemed dejected, somehow… Perhaps the same questions tumbling through his mind were in hers, too.

_ If we stop, will it cost Logan his life? _

He had a debt to repay, to Logan, and to Aphmau too. He thought it over logically, methodically, weighing the outcomes and the possibilities. Aphmau watched him nervously, wringing her hands. She sat awkwardly in the snow, snuggling into her scarf. 

“Do you need to rest?” 

She flashed him a grateful look, eyes drooping. “Please.” 

“I say we-”

“First thing in the morning, we’ll go straight to the wolf camp.” He raised his voice as Gene would have done as Head Guard, commanding the room, then choked, realising that Garroth was looking at him strangely. Not upset, merely confused. He had accidentally cut him off.

“I’m sorry,” he said hastily, lifting his palms to Garroth. “I didn’t mean to undermine you.” 

“I- It’s fine,” Garroth said, easily disgruntled. Laurance laughed lightly, and punched Garroth’s arm. Hard. 

“Agh, what?” 

“Nothing. Just wanted to do that.”

“Hmph. Like… Like Dante said… yeah. We’re gonna do that.” 

He flushed. 

Dante tried to keep a straight face. Laurance and Garroth shared some kind of feelings towards each other, negative or not. They were living, and fighting. Dante wanted to smile, laugh, play, sing,  _ feel.  _

But there was an empty, gaping hole in his chest where he expected to feel… something…

Aphmau had extra supplies, and had divided them to Laurance and Garroth - and Dante, too, despite him protesting that he’d rather endure the cold - as she saw fit. Dante helped her to set up a pair of tents; she had strung the folded pieces across her back like a weapon while travelling. He didn’t doubt that she could use the metal just as she had the crutches. Aphmau was not only a Lord, but a warrior, and Dante was surprised that it had taken him so long to recognise that.

The night split open over their heads, the first stars peeking their heads tentatively into the abyss. Malachi raced under the blackness, body glowing in the shadows, like a lamp bobbing about, lighting their path.

“You’ve gotta run out of energy sometime,” Garroth said absently, unravelling a sleeping bag. He turned his gaze onto Laurance, tapping his feet as he hunted in the bag that Aphmau had given him frantically, full of restless energy, obviously thinking the same thing of him. 

“I-I don’t understand. It was  _ here,”  _ he was muttering. 

“Something wrong?” Garroth said sweetly, smoothing his blankets. 

At that moment Dante’s instincts prickled, and he knew that all Hell was about to break loose. The first drops of rain of the upcoming thunderstorm broke free of their chains as Garroth struggled to stifle a laugh. Dante hadn’t picked him for the prank-playing type, but Laurance seemed to provoke a different personality from within him. Dante took a wary step back.

Laurance leaned back. “Oi, freckles, have you seen my…” 

Garroth took off a plate of his armour innocently. His lips twitched slightly. 

“My… sleeping… bag?” He trailed off, brows scrunching together.

“Nope,” Garroth said quickly. Too quickly. Hastily enough that Laurance straightened, eyes narrowing. “Haven’t seen it.”

With a hand, Laurance grasped Garroth’s chin and pulled him close. “ _ Liar.”  _

Garroth spluttered, and shoved him away. “Wha-” 

“What did you do!?”    
  


“I didn’t-” 

“Garroth,” Dante said quietly, trying to summon a shred of Gene’s commanding voice. The clearing went silent. A cold hush swept over them; Dante had startled even himself, and cleared his throat. “Er. Maybe  _ don’t  _ destroy the tents. Take it outside.”

“He - he  _ did  _ something! My sleeping bag is  _ gone!”  _

“I… It’s  _ possible  _ it was left behind at Malachi’s castle.”

“It’s  _ possible?”  _ Laurance echoed, steered Garroth out into the night, trying to clamp down on his anger. Dante had watched Garroth pack the supplies, had seen Garroth being a honourable guard and helping Laurance. 

_ Honourable, my ass. _

“You - unbelievable - prick!”

“Hey, wait-” 

Garroth had the sense to run, and as he burst out from the sheltered cluster of foliage and pine trees into the night, Laurance chased him, yelling curses and threats in his direction. 

“Come here!” 

“You-” 

“When I catch you you’re  _ dead!”  _

_ “If  _ you can catch me at all!”

Dante watched Laurance put on a burst of speed, body flitting in and out of the moonlight, and tackle Garroth into the dirt with a huff. 

“This is for the bruises!” 

Even their bodies, caught in their brawl - although not seeming to do much damage to each other - seemed to fit together. Dante knew that there was something he should do. Stop it, somehow. But he just blinked, running his hands through his hair. How had he ended up here? Fate had pulled his strings in the direction of who needed him the most. But if anything, all he could do was envy Laurance and Garroth. They knew who they were. They recognised themselves in the mirror. They seemed to understand each other, even when they fought. 

Dante couldn’t unravel the feeling that he was not where he was supposed to be. 

Laurance had Garroth pinned with a high burst of triumphant laughter.

Aphmau marched out past him, wading through the open snow.

“Hey! What in  _ Irene  _ are you two doing!?” 

“He  _ left behind  _ my sleeping bag! On purpose!” Laurance whined. Garroth had given up the fight and leaned back with a taunting grin. 

“He’s only throwing a tantrum because of his bruises.” He reached a mocking hand towards Laurance’s face and was smacked away. 

Malachi trotted out to stand beside Dante, glancing at the two guards. They shrugged, evidently not finding anything unusual about them fighting, instead peering up at Dante curiously. The child’s eyes were round like an owl’s, glowing in the night like pale stars. 

“Where did you get that scar?”

Their small, transparent fingers pointed to Dante’s right cheek - he supposed, with his face half dappled in moonlight glistening through the trees, his scar must have been visible. Malachi’s eyes begged for a story of adventure, of nobility. A tale only worthy of a honourable guard.

Dante was no such thing. 

He forced himself to bear an awkward, gritted smile. “Not tonight, kid,” he said. “Not tonight.” 

Malachi hesitated, clearly debating whether to press for more or to abandon the cause. They bobbed their head and awkwardly ran away, and it was only upon seeing them that Laurance sat back, releasing Garroth. 

“Malachi?”

“Can you tuck me into bed?” Malachi blinked shyly. Dante was reminded, not for the first time, that they had been without their parents for a long time - too long. 

Dante gritted his teeth. 

Something about that stirred turbulent feelings, thoughts, troubles in his mind. His stomach churned. Malachi was… a distorted reflection of  _ him _ . Their childhood had been stolen away - but they had still held the soul and body of youth. They still yearned for those stolen years.

Dante’s teen years had been stolen. But he had searched and yearned, and he had never found them again. 

Sometimes he still caught himself wishing, and cursed himself for it. He was an adult - he would never be able to make up for what he had lost and taken, even if Malachi could. 

He swallowed, throat tight. Aphmau was watching him. 

“Of course,” Laurance said, grinning easily. He let Garroth up, but not before aiming a rough punch to his shoulder. “I cannot  _ believe  _ you, you  _ prick _ .” 

“Oops.” 

“ _ Oops!? _ You force me to sleep in the snow and that’s all you have to say?  _ Oops?”  _

“It was an accident!” 

“ _ You  _ were an accident,” Laurance muttered.

“Boys!” Aphmau said instantly, weaving her way between them. “You’re being a bad example for Malachi!”

  
That shut them both up, the idea that they were both supposed to be parents rather than rivals.

“And Laurance, don’t be stupid, you’re not sleeping in the snow.”

“I am, thanks to  _ him.”  _

He jerked his thumb towards Garroth, who scoffed. 

Dante, leaning against a pine tree from a short distance away, chose that moment to speak up, seeing the quiet dread in Laurance’s eyes at the thought of being outside in the cold. Dante was shivering slightly, and he was already wearing layers of thick Winter clothing. Laurance’s fingers fiddled with the buttons of his jacket. 

“You can have my blanket,” Dante said. “That’ll at least be better than nothing.” 

Laurance hesitated, then thought it over. 

“No,” Aphmau cut in. “Dante can keep his blanket. Laurance will share with Garroth tonight.” 

“I-” 

“What?” 

They spluttered.

Obviously attempting to maintain a certain image of them as fathers, Laurance gently shooed Malachi away. “Go wait for me.” 

When they were gone, his gaze darkened. “Why are you punishing me?!”

“Aphmau, surely it makes logical sense for Dante to-” 

“That’s an  _ order.”  _

Even Dante hesitated, and had to remind himself that he wasn’t the one getting scolded. Still - her voice was suddenly exhausted, and all of the men paused.

“What?” Garroth suddenly seemed to regret every decision he had ever made.

“You did this. You’ll put up with sleeping together. Problem solved.”

“Aphmau-” 

“No. Go to bed.  _ Irene.”  _

She put her head in her hands. Laurance reached to her warily, and touched her on the back, comforting her. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said. “I’ll do it.” 

From the glare he shot at Garroth, it was for Aphmau and her alone. 

“Yeah,” said Garroth awkwardly. “I’ll put up with  _ him.  _ It’s fine.” 

“Ugh.” 

Aphmau straightened, gathering a shred of composure. As they walked back to the tents, both Garroth and Laurance seething, Aphmau lingered behind them.

Dante watched Laurance tuck Malachi into bed and kiss their forehead. Malachi seemed to like the attention.

Some kind of resentment burned at Dante, sinking deep into his stomach no matter how hard he tried to dislodge it. He deserved love too. Didn’t he? 

Gene had said that he did, once. 

But that hadn’t lasted long. Neither had his family. 

Dante hadn’t been offered a second chance like Malachi had. His resentment was aimed more at himself than them. He watched, helplessly, unfolding his sleeping bag. Laurance approached Garroth awkwardly, keeping his voice low so that Malachi wouldn’t hear. “Don’t try anything.”

Garroth smirked slightly, inclining his chin, inviting Laurance closer. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Aphmau brushed Dante’s arm.

“Can I speak to you?” 

Well, that was it, then. She had finally decided that he was too much for her. Had enough of him. Gotten bored, disappointed, anything at all. He had half expected it, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the blow. 

“Okay.” 

He lifted his chin. Should he beg? Get on his knees like a coward, a bumbling child, and beg for her to let him stay? He  _ liked  _ her and her rag-tag little group. He admired her as a leader, a Lord - and had even enjoyed guarding her. It made him feel as if he had a true purpose in the world beyond being forgotten.

Abandoned. 

Would begging shift her heart? 

He was almost desperate enough to try it. One hand gripped at his hair, cradling his head as he followed her into the snow, wrapping a coat around himself awkwardly. 

“Dante? Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” His voice seemed strangled. Unfamiliar, belonging to no one.

He heard angry muttering coming from the direction of the tents. 

“I swear to Irene, if you  _ don’t  _ stop kicking me-” 

“I’m not doing anything!” 

Aphmau turned to him as their voices faded, and all he had was the night glittering behind her and the Lord herself, watching him warily. 

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it, unsure of herself. Then she blurted out, “how  _ did  _ you get your scar?”

“I- I didn’t realise you had… heard… that…” 

She blinked. “It’s… it’s okay if you really don’t want to tell anyone. I swear. I just wondered.” 

His fingertips brushed the faint white line on his right jawline. “I don’t think I’ll - I’ll ever be ready to tell that story. I… I don’t think it’d be fair to the owner of the blade who did this to me.” 

Her eyes widened slightly, rippling with curiosity that she clearly struggled to force down. Eventually, she dipped her head. “I respect that.” 

“I know that’s not why you dragged me out here.” 

“Yes. I…” 

She didn’t seem to know where to begin. Dante braced himself for the blow, but it never came. 

“I know why you have to do this,” he finally said, unable to resist breaking the silence any longer. She looked at him in surprise. “I’m… I have difficulties with behaviour. I try to take over everything, command everyone. I can be mean. I-I understand.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’m sorry. If I’m not the right fit.”

“Dante, I- I’m not-” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I’m not  _ dismissing  _ you, Dante.” 

“You- you- then what-” 

“I brought you out here to ask you if you wanted to be my guard, Dante.” 

He froze. The weight of the words washed over him. He flushed, deeply, cursing himself for every hasty, immature thing he had said. Had he hurt her? Killed his chances of being considered?

But, to his surprise, she let out a deep laugh. “For real. Join the Phoenix Drop Guard, with me. I don’t care about any of those things you just told me about.” 

“It’s been - difficult - to even find anyone who would even look past  _ me  _ to consider me for such a position. _ ”  _

“That’s not a problem with me. It never has been.” 

“I…” 

She gripped his wrists. “Please, Dante. I’d like you to be my Guard. I need you.” 

That struck a chord within him. In his experience, anyone depending, relying, needing him always ended badly. His story never would get a happy ending. He didn’t dare to dream otherwise.

But Aphmau gave him a purpose.

He didn’t want to hurt her, or hurt those she surrounded herself with.

The world was harsh and cruel to Dante. But he so badly wanted to heal. 

He swallowed. 

“Even after what happened in the snow? With me… abandoning you… to that wolf?” 

“What? I… that was an accident.” 

“Are you even comfortable with having your life in my hands?” 

“Of course.”

He hesitated. “I… I don’t know what to say.” 

“Do you… do you  _ want  _ to be a guard?” 

“I do! I do, I really do. I just need… some time…” 

“To consider it?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Thank you, thank you, okay. That’s okay.” She took a pace back, then hugged him. He froze for a moment, eyes wide, then sank into her grip. “Take all the time you need. I just wanted you to know.”

She held him as if she was not afraid, as if she would never forget him. 

_ Please don’t forget me.  _

He followed her path back to the tents and quietly sank into his sleeping bag, wrapping his blanket around his face as so to hide the sudden, giddy smile, trying to keep quiet. He didn’t want to wake Laurance and Garroth, who were seemingly asleep on the other side of the tent. Garroth’s arm was carelessly strung over Laurance’s shoulders. If they had been awake, Laurance would have slapped him for it, but they were seemingly content in their exhaustion.

Dante blinked in quiet surprise, then curled into his blanket, knees to his chest, one hand holding the other. 

_ Was that real?  _

He tried to convince himself that it was.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Garroth was awake.

It took too long for Dante’s breathing to slow - a grueling hour or so in which he was too afraid to move, meaning that he was frozen in that same position, seething, eyes closed as if at peace with the world when Garroth was very much  _ not.  _

_ A guard always sleeps with one eye open.  _

That was what he had been taught. 

_ Laurance fell asleep quickly - scarily quickly. Garroth refused to even let their backs touch, curled delicately on one side while Laurance could take up the other. It seemed like a clever deal - not to have to acknowledge the other. The fact that they were sleeping in the same bed. Essentially, was not something that Garroth would ever admit to doing. He already found it difficult to get to sleep before he had been forced to accept another man into his bed, but with Laurance so close, his heart was racing so much that he could barely even think of sleep. His fingers curled into the blanket. _

_ Aphmau and Dante were still out there.  _

_ He trusted Dante, surprising even himself, but he didn’t think that Dante was the true threat. The wild was, and Garroth couldn’t guarantee her safety, even with him. _

_ Laurance didn’t stir as he slipped out into the night and sat in the snow, hidden in the foliage, mind racing. He tried to calm himself down.  _

**_I hate him so much._ **

**_That fucker just won’t get out of my head._ **

_ Aphmau and Dante’s voices were low, but he could faintly hear them from his hiding place. He hadn’t planned to eavesdrop, simply make sure that Aphmau was safe. That was his sacred duty as a Guard, after all. _

_ Perhaps he shouldn’t have listened. _

_ He didn’t want to hear. But he did, anyway, craning his neck to hear exactly how Aphmau  _ **_needed_ ** _ Dante. Needed him around badly enough to be her Guard.  _

_ She had bonded strongly to him, and he knew that, but something about that filled his gut with jealousy.  _

_ Just as it had with Laurance.  _

_ Didn’t she need him anymore? Perhaps she felt safer with Dante. Perhaps he had to stop thinking he had any kind of claim over protecting her. The burden was not his alone to bear. He enjoyed the responsibility, but he couldn’t stop the intense resentment he hurled in their direction. _

_ Dante and Aphmau were walking towards him. _

**_Shit - shit-_ **

_ He couldn’t imagine how he wasn’t caught as he stumbled back into the tent and flopped himself practically onto Laurance in his panic, arm strung hastily over Laurance and eyes closed as Dante slipped inside.  _

It took him too long to go to sleep.

Aphmau’s words chased him into a fretful, restless sleep. 

Something kicked him awake, hours later. He had to stifle a cry of alarm, realising that it was only Laurance, legs lashing out. Dante was deeply asleep, resting.

Laurance thrashed again, whining through his teeth. 

_ For Irene’s sake, not again!  _

Garroth’s hands fumbled over Laurance’s shoulders, cursing himself.  _ Do I wake him? What are you supposed to do!?  _

_ I don’t want to hurt him.  _

Garroth’s eyes fell onto Laurance’s bruises. The same cheek that he had cupped with his hand, had caught himself in some kind of trance. That could never happen again. Garroth wouldn’t allow it. 

“You idiot,” he hissed. “Stop it.” 

Laurance’s legs tangled with his as he blindly searched for something in his dreams, beyond reach. Fingers curling into the blanket, fumbling - 

No,  _ dragging.  _

When he had had his first nightmare in Garroth’s presence, he had frantically tried to drag himself away. Doing anything to get away from him, thinking he was still in whatever Hell he had visited in his dreams.

Garroth’s arms wrapped around Laurance, tugging him back. “Shh, shh, shh…” 

_ Stop, stop.  _

_ Don’t wake Dante, please.  _

Laurance’s knees connected with his stomach and he let out a muffled groan.  _ Can you- not?  _

His fingers were on Laurance’s face, trying to navigate him back into reality, somehow.

The man’s eyes flew open - thank Irene, and Garroth sat back heavily. 

His eyes were red. 

  
  


He blinked heavily, face hanging, and they were blue once again. Garroth froze, silent horror coursing through him. Had he imagined it? No. That had been a crimson iris. 

Right? 

“Wh-” 

Garroth’s hand was over his mouth, holding him close, letting him see the warning in his eyes. 

It took him a scarily long moment to restore some kind of clarity. Garroth released him.

Laurance sat, his hands on his face, blushing deeply. He let out a long sigh, rubbing his face. “Did you… were you  _ holding me?”  _

“No,” Garroth whispered instantly. “Now shut up, and for Irene’s sake, don’t wake Dante.”

“Why? What happened?”

His eyes betrayed no sign of whatever he had been dreaming about.

“It’s fine. Just follow me.” He kicked back the blanket and beckoned Laurance to follow him. He hadn’t planned on saying anything to him, but in a flash of inspiration, it seemed that Laurance deserved to know about the role that Dante was preparing to take. 

They waded out into the snow. Laurance was shivering and, sighing with frustration, Garroth tossed him his jacket. 

“Er… I’m sorry I woke you up,” Laurance said awkwardly, once they were safely away from the tents. 

“It’s fine.” 

Garroth tried to hide his red cheeks. “Now. Come here, and listen.”

“What’s going on? Is something wrong?” 

“It’s not  _ wrong.  _ It’s just… yeah. It’s Dante.”

Laurance wrapped Garroth’s jacket tighter around himself, seeming to snuggle into it, eyes still heavy from sleep. An imprint of the sleeping bag had been left on his cheek. 

Garroth struggled to blink away the image of Laurance, hair lazily ruffled by sleep, face relaxed, eyes still slightly clouded. In  _ his  _ jacket covering his chest. No. It was burned into his mind, despite his best efforts to dislodge it.

“So,” he managed. “Here’s the thing.” 


	18. episode eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are going to be shorter since I'm quite busy and might not get time to write! But enjoy! <3 
> 
> Song for this chapter is A Sadness Runs Through Him by the Hoosiers !!

  
  


Laurance was struggling to gather his composure. 

He was still battered from sleep, eyes heavy and drooping, trying to blink himself into the living world, focusing on Garroth. His figure was slightly blurred, blond curls dark in the depth of night leeching at his frame. He struggled to find a sense of clarity. 

Real? 

Fake? 

“So,” Garroth said, voice hushed. “Aphmau has invited Dante to become a guard. Formally.” 

Laurance didn’t reply. He was suddenly aware that he had taken Garroth’s jacket without a second thought and wrapped it around him, and was debating giving it back. He was painfully coming to terms with the fact that his arrogant persona was becoming lost in sleep and nightmares, and Laurance didn’t want to be seen like that, especially not by someone like Garroth. He was, however, far too lazy to try and fix his ragged appearance. 

A shudder skittered down his spine and he hugged the jacket closer, ignoring Garroth’s raised eyebrow. 

Garroth, deflated by his dismissal, carried into the tale of how he had listened to Aphmau begging Dante to be there for her. 

“And?” he prompted when Garroth was evidently finished.

“ _ And  _ she said she  _ needs  _ him,” Garroth said, blinking in surprise. “Doesn’t that make you feel… I don’t know, weird?” 

“He’s just joining the Guard,” Laurance said sleepily, sitting roughly in the snow. “She didn’t even officially  _ ask  _ me, it kind of just… happened.” 

“Yeah,” Garroth acknowledged. “But haven’t you seen them together? Haven’t you seen them? They’re… fast friends.” 

“You could say that.” 

“Aphmau needs Dante more than she needs us.”

“As a guard or as a friend?”

Garroth hesitated. “Both.” 

So he was finally admitting that Laurance was Aphmau’s friend. About time, he thought grimly, and he was finally awake enough to come to terms with what Garroth was explaining. It was clear to him that Dante would accept the offer - he had taken a liking to Aphmau just as quickly as she had to him. And where would that leave him and Garroth?

Second best. Left behind. 

He wanted so badly to be there for her - he struggled to convince himself that his role in her life wouldn’t shift. She wouldn’t abandon him or replace him, right?

But he couldn’t be too sure.

He couldn’t dislodge the feeling that the world was crumbling apart before his eyes. Aphmau, moving on. But Laurance didn’t want to move on. Dante was - well, he was younger. Less… less energetic than him, Laurance supposed, but still clever and somewhat sarcastic. He could get on Garroth’s nerves, too, which he admired. He could see Dante being his brother. 

He didn’t want to allow his emotions to control him, pulling his strings like a puppet, but he burned and coiled with hatred at himself for allowing this to happen. He supposed it was inevitable. But if Aphmau was happier with Dante as her friend… 

“Hey,” Garroth said. “Calm down.”

“Yeah,” he managed, realising that his breathing had grown ragged. He swallowed, fiddling awkwardly with Garroth’s jacket. 

Garroth leaned back, blowing curls out of his eyes, peering wistfully up at the moon. 

“I… I don’t like it either,” the taller man admitted, running a hand through his curls. “I hate the idea that Aphmau doesn’t… need me… anymore… if she has Dante.”

“Like, as a Guard?” 

Garroth lifted his chin, then sighed. “No. As a friend, too.” 

Laurance, for a moment, was too frightened to agree, as if Garroth would snap out of his sleepy trance and realise who he was confiding in. Who he was sitting alongside, both of them half asleep, neither of them fully alert of their surroundings. 

Looking at the moon, Garroth’s eyes were watering slightly. 

“Yeah,” Laurance managed. “Me, too.” 

He had the prickling sensation that Garroth would barely recall anything from their conversation the morning after and paused before continuing, “I wasn’t even her guard to begin with, it just… happened that way. And then suddenly, I  _ was.”  _

“Yeah, well, not with me,” Garroth said. “Aphmau coming into my life was a… a surprise, as most things in my life tend to be. Once I realised that I couldn’t… wouldn’t be a Lord, I wanted to be a guard, though.”

“Yeah, you seem the type to plan everything about your path,” Laurance said drily. 

“I didn’t plan everything. I couldn’t plan for Zane, my father, or my… other…”

“Your other…?” 

“Nothing,” Garroth said. So he was still aware enough to grip some shred of self-control. He leaned onto his back, throwing his arms behind his head, and Laurance reluctantly laid down beside him with a heavy sigh. The stars dangled over them, seeming to move in his tiredness, swaying from strings tied to invisible fingers tracing their way across the black sky.

“I didn’t plan anything, really,” Laurance said. “I learned to fight to… er… fight a group of boys that weren’t fond of me. But I didn’t plan to become a guard, just from that. It was an impulsive decision. What I really wanted to do… was…” 

He drifted off, sitting up slightly, realising that Garroth had sat up and was looking at him strangely. 

“What did they do to you?” 

“Eh?”

“Those boys.” 

“They…er… threw stones at me. Called me names. You know, regular kid stuff.”

“Uh. No, that’s… that’s not…  _ Threw stones?”  _

Before he could pause to consider the weight of every movement he made, he lifted the jacket slightly, pointing to the dimly lit pale scar on his hip. Garroth flushed slightly, but his gaze did not falter. 

“Yeah,” Laurance said awkwardly. 

“Why?” Garroth’s voice was not exactly curious, not interested, eyes not betraying anything of what was running through his head - just a flat demand. 

“Eh… I guess I was just a walking target to them.” He shrugged. “Cadenza was willing to defend me, but I figured… I might as well get the job done myself.”

“So you trained to… hurt your bullies?” 

“Mhmm. I forced Cadenza to make me a dress and said that we could fight them together.” 

After a moment, Garroth let out an impressed laugh, surprising him.  _ “ _ So they got what they deserved?” 

“Indeed.” 

_ “Nice.” _

That was the first time that Garroth hadn’t seemed disgusted to compliment him or… appreciate something he had said, and awakened Laurance slightly. He blinked, shifting to hide his scar once again, flushing. Garroth had craned forward to see it so that a sliver of light hit the side of his face. Half of one eye was grey, a thick and swirling iris, the other a dark blue hue stolen from the light, icy colours of daytime. Even his freckles glowed like fractured drops of starlight. 

Laurance jumped back hastily, shifting through the thoughts in his mind that erupted from that image. 

_ Constellations.  _

_ Moonlight.  _

_ Smokey-  _

Those eyes chased him out of his dreams and into reality. The thread that Laurance had woven from pure lies and deception was staring him down, and he wasn’t sure how to confront it. Garroth’s lips twisted slightly, trying to decipher his expressions.

Finally, he said, “you were saying something before. About what you wanted to do before you became a Guard.” 

“It’s stupid, really.” 

“Go on.” 

Laurance wasn’t sure why he kept talking. It wasn’t as if Garroth was insulting him or provoking him as he usually would - in fact, as he laid onto his back once again, blinking wearily up at the stars, Garroth laid alongside him, waiting patiently. Laurance could guess that half of his contented, docile mood was thanks to the late night and his lack of sleep, that Laurance could blame himself for causing.

When the morning swept over them, he wouldn’t be half as kind.

“I... I had no interest in being a guard. I wanted to  _ explore.  _ One of those travelers, adventures - a free man. No responsibilities. No troubles. Just sea, sky and wind.”

Garroth lifted his chin slightly. “That sounds…” 

“Horrible?” 

“Not half bad,” he admitted. “Sounds like something you’d do. Although I’m not sure how much _I’d_ enjoy that.” 

_ Yeah, you wouldn’t.  _ He forced back the retort.

When had Laurance allowed himself to be seen, known, felt by Garroth Ro’meave? He had sworn to himself that no Ro’meave was  _ good,  _ was worth his attention. Yet he was giving it to Garroth.

“I don’t know,” Garroth mused. “It’d be cool to just have a… a...” 

He seemed to realise who he was and what he was confessing and sat up suddenly, eyes wide. 

“Go on,” Laurance urged, and unlike Garroth, he was intensely curious as to what strange, unfamiliar mysteries lurked in the head of the O’Khasis prince. 

“A family, I suppose,” Garroth grunted. “I suppose you’re not familiar with that concept.”

Laurance visibly hesitated. The Shadow Knight clutching and clawing at him from deep in his chest yearned to take offence to that. He knew that that half of him was still bubbling and boiling beneath his skin. A second soul waiting to be found. Garroth knew, too. 

“Yes,” he acknowledged slowly. “I don’t think you really want to talk about family with  _ me,  _ Garroth.” 

“I believe we’ve already had that argument.”

Garroth had been peering down at him, grey eyes rippling warily as Laurance sat up. 

“Yes. I have the marks to prove it.” 

Garroth’s hand grabbed at his chin and lightly turned his head to the left so that he could see the bruises. They were finally bubbling into a yellow and green colour, but still obvious. A permanent of Garroth, and what he could and was unafraid to do to him. He froze - Garroth’s fingers were cold, recapturing their previous day in the snow as he cupped the bruise in his palm. Despite himself, Laurance leaned into the touch, cursing himself for every excuse he gave Garroth to belittle him. But no teasing came. It was quiet, calm. Those milky grey eyes investigated the injury, thumb brushing over his jawline. 

Finally, Garroth threw Laurance back, blinking himself out of the trance. “Stop complaining about that bruise - its healing, isn’t it?” 

“It’s fine,” Laurance said, rubbing his jaw, tracing the line that Garroth had made over his skin.

His heart fumbled slightly in protest.  _ That  _ wasn’t okay. 

He scowled deeply. 

He stood up, brushing the snow off his legs, and Garroth did the same. “Don’t wake Dante.”

“I know.”

“Can I at least have my jacket back?” 

“Er… no?” 

Garroth huffed, stomping behind him back to the tent, only to be hastily hushed by Laurance. 

“Shut up!”

_ “You  _ shut up!” 

As they crept into the tent, they found Dante sitting up, eyes ragged and hair messy. 

“Why don’t you both shut up and go - to - bed!?” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Garroth could hardly believe that he fell asleep at all after the overwhelming bubbling of thoughts in his brain, half of them lost to tiredness into a jumble of incoherency, half simply a loud buzz. He couldn’t exactly focus on one or the other, only the gut instinct that what he had done was… 

Wrong? 

But right. 

His mind begged him to stop whatever game he was playing, pushing the limits, toeing the line. But how long before one of them snapped. Logically, Garroth was  _ stupid.  _

Emotionally, he was…  _ interested _ . He was no emotional man. He was not governed by feelings - or, at least, he didn’t want to be.

He was still a dumbass for allowing himself to be lured into some kind of… naivety by Laurance, of all people, and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

He fell asleep, reciting the silent vow in his mind. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

By the time he blinked himself awake, his thoughts were slow and murky. He struggled to shift through last night. If he had done something bad, he couldn’t exactly recall. All he had was a strange, fizzing feeling of excitement in his stomach, sitting outside in the cold with… with… 

_ Fuck.  _

He bit that realisation down. 

He shifted his arm slightly and touched fabric. A body moved underneath his hand, and suddenly he and Laurance were nose to nose. 

Garroth’s hand rested limply on his hip. Laurance’s was pressed against his neck.

“Aagh!” 

They shoved away from each other, Laurance scrambling out of the sleeping bag with his hair wild and erratic. “Oh,  _ Irene _ , what are you doing!?”

“You - you-”

“I didn’t-” 

“Your hand was -” 

“You were cuddling me first, you - you-” 

Aphmau stood in the entrance to the tent, eyes wide. “Er… what’s… going… on?” 

  
“Ask  _ him!”  _

Laurance pointed wildly to Garroth, who spluttered. 

“Your hand was on my neck, you little- ugh!” 

Dante trotted into frame, eyes dejected. “Don’t worry, Aphmau,” he said, and the twitch in the corner of his lips communicated an infuriating smugness. “They had a very… long… night.”

“Shut up!” Garroth barked, running his hands through his curls. 

_ I  _ **_was_ ** _ asleep when this happened, right? _

“Nothing happened, Aphmau,” Laurance cut in hastily. “We just went outside for a break because  _ someone  _ hogs all of the blanket. We woke Dante up, so he’s a bit salty this morning.” 

Dante frowned deeply. “Oh, yeah? Then why are you still wearing  _ his  _ jacket?” 

Garroth’s cheeks burned as he realised that the jacket that Laurance gripped suddenly, investigating and pulling around himself awkwardly was  _ his. His  _ jacket.

_ I… I gave that to him. Why did I do that?  _

Garroth held out his hand for it back, but Laurance just stood there. Then, finally, mustering some kind of his old swagger, he winked. Garroth gritted his teeth. 

_ The arrogant little bastard thinks he’s hot shit for stealing my jacket! I’ll get him back for it. _

“Do you really want the sweet details, Dante? I can fill you in, if you like.” 

At this, Dante made a disgusted face. “Yeah, um, I’m good.” 

Aphmau clearly didn’t know what to make of this and managed a shaky smile. “We, uh… we have to go now. To the wolf village, I mean. Uh- so. Yeah. Pack up, boys.” 

The look she flashed Garroth was impossible to interpret. He tried to convey some kind of plea in his eyes, but she turned and walked away. 

Dante’s calm exterior crumbled the second she turned her back, and his eyes were grudgingly curious. 

“Are you actually-” 

“No!” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Dante!?” 

“Okay, but you gotta admit this jacket looks great on me.” Mockingly, Laurance flexed, holding various poses that Garroth could have gone a lifetime without having the displeasure of seeing. 

  
“Irene, no.” 

Laurance looked faintly disgruntled by Garroth deliberately turning his back to pack, although he tossed a hesitant glance over his shoulder. Their gazes locked, then skittered away. 

_ Ugh. My life would be so much easier if he stopped bothering me. _

_ Wouldn’t it? _


	19. episode nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is To My Enemies by Saint Motel !!

  
  


The sun wasn’t burdened by cloud cover, and the snow turned soft and wet under their feet as they took down their tents, both Aphmau and Dante eager to turn back to their mission - saving Logan. 

Who knew how much the time that they had wasted would impact his survival? Aphmau was seething with guilt, allowing them to not only sleep in but to rest in the first place. She had been too tired to carry on, and Dante had known that at the time - but surely, if she really tried, she could have kept going? Pushed through the exhaustion? 

She strapped the metal poles of the tent over her back like a weapon. She figured, if she could use her crutches to defend herself, why not anything else? She had her dagged sheathed in her belt, just in case, along with an empty jar that had previously held some obscure potion from months ago. 

Dante seemed awkward, unfocused. She was horribly afraid that she had frightened him or injured his pride by inviting him to be one of her guards - but then again, he seemed painfully tired from the night before. She couldn’t be sure. 

But Dante seemed uncertain of himself as he folded his sleeping bag into a cylinder.

Laurance seemed to be floating in and out of reality, eyes somewhat glazed, hair still messy from sleep. He flitted in and out of the pine trees, pacing, unsure of himself. Dante was watching him warily, as if unsure whether to disturb him. Even Garroth bit down on his laughter, almost fixated on Laurance twirling his sword between his fingers, hurling moves and techniques at an invisible opponent. 

Garroth watched him for a moment too long. Enough for Aphmau to pause. Enough for Dante to nudge Garroth, slightly, eyes narrowed slightly, snapping him out of his trance. Malachi ran to Laurance, bouncing up and down. 

“Can I use your sword? Can I!?” 

“I- um, yes, but for Irene’s sake, you have to be careful.”

“I will!” 

“Like this.” Laurance guided Malachi’s hand to the hilt of the blade and positioned them so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves.

Garroth tore his eyes away and turned to Aphmau, cheeks faintly red. “Milady? May I… speak to you?” 

Dante turned towards them.

“ _ Alone,”  _ he added, flashing an apologetic glance in his direction. 

Laurance was too distracted to notice them walk out into the half melted snow in the valley, and Aphmau thought that perhaps that was for the best, anyway. Laurance seemed suddenly…. uncertain of himself, shaken by whatever had happened the night before. Even she herself couldn’t understand what secrets the three men seemed to be guarding in particular. 

As Garroth steered her away, she fixed him with round, curious eyes. The mumble of Laurance and Malachi faded into the background, until they were nothing more than dim shapes flitting through the trees where their camp had been sheltered.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”

“With…?”

“You? And Laurance?” 

The way that Garroth spluttered slightly made her nervous, as if she was intruding on something private; she had clearly startled him, enough for her to figure that they weren’t talking about the same thing.

“Laurance? I- uh-”

“Whatever you think happened last night with  _ him _ , you’re - wrong-” 

“I know you two are fighting - what?” 

“Oh! I- er…” 

“I… um…” 

She couldn’t mistake Garroth’s sigh to mean anything over than silent relief, and was momentarily frozen by confusion. From what she could gather, they were still trapped in their petty cycle of hatred that she was desperately trying to break - right? She didn’t dare to hope that their relationship had progressed at all since she had begged them to tolerate each other. 

“You  _ are  _ the one who bruised his face, right?”

“I-” Garroth hesitated, then seemed to come to an abrupt decision. His eyes flickered briefly in the direction of the rest of their party, entertaining Malachi, then rested awkwardly on Aphmau. “Yes. I… was.” 

She bit back her frustration. 

“And…  _ why…  _ did you think it was okay to do that to him!?” 

“He… er… confronted me with the truth. Not very  _ kindly,  _ mind you, but it was an awakening for me.”

“An awakening?” She blinked. 

“Yes. That’s why I need to talk to you.” 

“Oh.” It was her turn to be startled, and perhaps that allowed Garroth to relax slightly as his hand reached for hers and held it comfortingly. “I promise I haven’t done anything wrong, per say.”

“Okay?” 

Garroth took a deep breath, trying to build up his courage. She waited, patiently, hand small in his palm. 

“This is the only time I take Laurance’s advice, ever.” 

But the insult didn’t quite seem as cruel as normal, as if Garroth didn’t believe it himself.

“We… we have to speak about the possibility of war.” 

_ War.  _ Her throat squeezed, and her hand tightened around Garroth’s fingers, trying to navigate what that word meant to her. She had never experienced anything like it, only the battles from her own people, within her town. She was unfamiliar with what, exactly, war would do to her, to Phoenix Drop, to her loved ones, but what she knew was a sudden sense of terror. The fragility of the world balancing her and her town, and how easily it could give way. 

Garroth’s eyes narrowed, seeing her dismay. 

“Let me explain, milady. My father’s name is Garte. Lord of O’Khasis. My earliest memories of him were fond - Zane and I could at least agree on that. He was, initially, a well respected man. I wanted to be just like him! He made being a Lord seem like an honour and a privilege.” 

He flashed her a sympathetic look, not quite understanding her position but acknowledging it. 

“He sounds… like a good man.”

His expression darkened. “No, not quite. My father fell ill in my early teenage years and… he was close to death at one point. The doctors managed to heal him, barely, but when he woke up from that sickness, he was… my father was  _ different _ .”

“What kind of different?” 

Despite herself and the threat of war, Aphmau was curious and enraptured by Garroth, and his past. He had been masked, gruff, polite upon their first meeting. And now he was standing before him, no helm in sight, confiding in her. Garroth swallowed nervously, suddenly unsure of himself. 

“He… he was… um, well you could imagine how he was not… the kindest… man...”

“Hey, it’s… I think I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“No. I have to tell you.” He gritted his teeth. “He had no care for his people, only the pursuit of power and a fierce ambition. Zane… he and I were already fighting by that time, but he turned to our father for help and guidance. I’m not saying they were  _ close,  _ but Zane knew how to do what would help him to survive. Him, alone, and no one else.” 

Reflecting on the interactions with Zane that she had experienced, she nodded in silent agreement. Zane had threatened her village, Laurance, Garroth, everything she held close to her heart. It could have been destroyed in an instant, thanks to him. She had never paused to consider his childhood, being Garroth’s brother, and the son of the Lord of O’Khasis - she had never wondered about his youth. It would have been difficult to live with Garte, she thought privately, and if she was not familiar with Zane’s crimes, she would have felt for him. 

“Where Zane decided to stay where he thrived, I… I had had enough. I attended Guard Academy under the guise that I was training to serve my father. I… I didn’t think I would get another opportunity to leave. But as I returned home I discovered that I was being forced into a peace-treaty marriage with the daughter of Scaleswind in order to unite the two cities.”

Aphmau was vaguely already familiar with the second half of the story - Zane had already gloated about it, over and over, jeering at Garroth for abandoning his marriage.

“I… I ran. I hid under my armour, my helm. I hid from the world, and for that I should formally apologise. I may have ruined everything for you.” 

“Garroth, no, I- I… I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything. It is my actions, and mine alone, that will cause a rift in our future. Zane knows where I am, so my father does, too. O’Khasis wants my father to rule over more than just the one city… to have power throughout the world. Things won’t… be… the same…” 

Aphmau hugged him hastily, sensing that his words were growing weak, struggling to grit out the admission that he had caused the threat of O’Khasis, no matter how much Aphmau wanted to convince him that he hadn’t, he wouldn’t believe her. 

“I don’t understand,” she managed. “I don’t understand why you and Laurance would fight over this? Why is all of this up to you?” 

“Laurance wants me to marry the daughter of Scaleswind. He wants me to stop pretending to be someone I’m not and… and be the Lord of O’Khasis. To take the throne, and stop my father. And he’s right. He’s right, and I punched him for it.”

“Judging from the bruise, you might have punched him more than once…”

“Er… yeah. A few times, actually. I didn’t think there’d be a point in my life where I’d have to agree with Laurance - and do what he says.” 

She stifled a snort, determined not to encourage their rivalry, but at the same time, she was proud of Garroth. As both his Lord and his friend. It had taken a lot of courage for him to communicate his struggles, knowing that they would impact their lives forever. 

“Garroth…? Are you actually…?” 

“I don’t want to go. Of course I don’t. But…” His gaze wavered back towards the trees, to where Laurance, Dante and Malachi were waiting for them. “But I have to.” 

“There has to be some other way.”

“When you find something, I’d  _ love  _ to hear it.” He grimaced at his own sarcasm. “Sorry.” 

“I will,” she swore, and meant it with every shred of her heart. “I won’t let you leave us.” 

He balanced on the edge of silence, then bowed his head. “Aphmau. After we save Logan, I need to go to O’Khasis to speak with my father.” 

“Then I go with you.” She left no room for debate in her voice, but Garroth still seemed to fumble with a protest. Afraid for her, and what fate would befall her if she remained close to him. But she didn’t care. She was scared, too - scared to abandon her friend when he needed her more than ever. 

“Aphmau, we - we were stupidly lucky that Zane left us alone, but our luck won’t last forever. Going to O’Khasis, for you, is…” 

“Risky?” 

“Foolish.” 

“That may be, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you step foot in that city alone.” She lifted her chin. 

“I - thank you. For listening to me”

“I’ll always be around to listen to you, Garroth. No matter what.” 

She pulled him into one last hug, hastily this time, as the severity of their situation struck her. She could consider war once Logan was safe in their ranks - Garroth understood. She leaned back. 

“Ugh. Imagine admitting Laurance is  _ right.”  _

Her laughter was stern as she led the way back through the foliage, into the shade, beckoning to Dante and Laurance. Malachi trailing behind them, dragging Laurance’s sword behind them in the snow. It was clearly too heavy for them, but with their chest puffed and eyes glowing, no one wanted to take the weapon away from them. 

“To the wolf village,” she said, and Dante’s face flickered with relief. 

“Finally,” he muttered. 

Aphmau walked behind Dante, letting him navigate his way back to the village through the snow; she lingered some distance away from Garroth and Laurance.

Not quite far enough to stop herself from overhearing Garroth, leaning forward to non-discreetly whisper into Laurance’s ear.

“I told her; I did what you wanted. Happy now?” 

Laurance hesitated, then offered a crooked smile. “Yeah.”

But he didn’t seem sure. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“I thought you said you knew where you were going!?” 

Laurance was short of breath, panting with his hands braced against his knees, but the ringing in his ears hadn’t blocked Dante’s muttered concerns to Aphmau, supervising the two guards from the edge of the clearing. 

“Pay attention!” Garroth snapped, aiming an awkward kick at Laurance’s legs. He was still in a volatile mood from his conversation with Aphmau earlier in the day, and was more than willing to take out his frustrations on Laurance. Who, in return, was looking for an excuse to fight, too. He was still feeling dizzy from sifting through last night, and the strange, gutted, sinking feeling in his gut when Garroth had whispered that he had finally grown a pair and told Aphmau about his family and responsibilities. 

_ Good for him, I guess.  _

_ So he’s leaving.  _

Why did he feel so frustrated with the result of it all? 

“For Irene’s sake, focus!” 

“Shut up!” Laurance waved his sword lazily in Garroth’s direction, pausing their sparring for a brief moment to glare at Dante, obviously trying to keep quiet but failing. He ignored Garroth’s groan. They had stopped at the order of Dante - to his amusement, irking Garroth - under the impression that he was simply finding his bearings. 

“We’re  _ lost?”  _

“We’re not lost,” Dante protested. “It’s just… I’m not sure where we are.” 

“Some navigator  _ you  _ are!”

Aphmau leaned over Dante’s shoulder fretfully, too frustrated to scold Garroth and Laurance for training. Either that, or they hadn’t escalated the fight. Yet.

“Ugh!” Garroth spat, aiming a kick at Laurance’s stomach and shoving him to the ground. He spat out melted snow and dirt, mud staining his chin. 

_ Never mind. _

“I’m  _ busy  _ talking to Dante at the moment!” 

“Too bad.” Garroth’s boot nosed at his face. “Get up.”

“No. You’re boring me.” 

He stretched lazily, inwardly cringing at the mud on his clothes, watching Garroth’s irritation growing with slow satisfaction. 

“I’m  _ boring  _ you?” 

“That’s right.” 

With a fist, Garroth dragged Laurance to his feet, holding him by his jacket. They were close enough for Laurance to count his freckles, nose to nose, breathing heavily. Garroth gritted his teeth. “Still too boring for you?” 

“Yeah. You’ll have to do better than that to entertain me.” He leaned forward slightly.

“Ugh.” Garroth tossed him away, flushing. “You’re insufferable.”

“And  _ you’re  _ boring.” He grinned. 

“I am  _ not-”  _

“Okay,” Dante called out, waving a hand. “I think… I have it? I think?” 

“We’ll see,” Garroth said slowly, fixing Dante with a long look. Impressively enough, Dante straightened to meet the older guard’s gaze with confidence, despite his mistake. Laurance felt slightly vulnerable with Garroth’s attention drifting away from him, and poked the hilt of his sword into his side. 

“Giving up?” 

“I’ve proven again and again that I don’t give up. And I certainly don’t lose - not to you, at least.” 

“Funny. I do recall a few times when you were the one on the ground with a sword against your neck.”

“Hah! I remember no such thing.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly in amusement.

“Really? I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment.” His grin grew. “You looked so helpless on the ground. I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy to submit to  _ anyone,  _ heh. How’d it feel?”

Garroth’s knee connected with his stomach and he doubled over, trying to catch his breath that was suddenly trapped in his chest. Garroth leaned down. “It felt great, for your information.” 

And that alone made him regain his breath, spluttering slightly.  _ He’s bolder than I give him credit for.  _

“Boys!” Aphmau was at the edge of the clearing, holding Malachi’s hand. Dante was ahead of her, already following a new trail. “Do you  _ want _ to be left behind?” 

“No,” he muttered. Garroth ducked his head, agreeing silently. 

“Then  _ come on!”  _

Laurance flashed Garroth a glance that promised a rematch. Later, though, he decided - because his thoughts were suddenly too fuzzy to focus on anything other than the trail ahead of him. 

_ Get it together, Laurance.  _ He cursed himself for every thought he had dedicated to Garroth rather than saving Logan, or protecting Aphmau. 

_ Garroth is nothing but a distraction to me.  _

_ He is nothing but an obstacle. _


	20. episode twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Get To You by The Honeysticks !!

“See? I told you I knew where I was going!” 

Garroth had to give Dante credit where it was due - despite his awkward stumbling and struggling, they were crouched in the thick woodland, hidden foliage and tightly packed trees. Through a gap in the trunks and leaves, the slithers of roughly bricked houses and huts peeked through. A shaggy shape flitted through the sunlight. 

He curled his lip slightly. 

He wanted very badly to seize control of the situation, use his authority to guide them through danger safely. But he was so unfamiliar with the bitter Winter, the wolves that roamed the wild, and Dante, whilst young and awkward, seemed more comfortable in the cold, harsh world than he was. It forced him to pause and consider - he had never journeyed beyond his comfort zone, really. He was out of his depth. What he knew and protected was Phoenix Drop, and he had been trapped and suffocated either in O’Khasis or the academy before that. He realised that Dante - and perhaps even Laurance - had seen, explored more of the world than him. 

His mood had already been fractured by his fight with Laurance, no matter how hard he wanted to seem as if the arrogant little shit had no effect on him. But somehow, coming to terms with that made him impossibly sadder. 

Still, he had to admit when he was weak - and Dante was, at that very moment, slightly stronger. 

“So,” he said, turning to the blue haired man, raising his brow.

“So?” Dante seemed momentarily confused, then straightened slightly, meeting Garroth’s gaze awkwardly. “Oh, er, sorry. What’s the plan?”

Laurance had picked up Malachi and held them close, and now both of them turned round eyes in their direction. Aphmau was crouched in the mud and snow, peeking through a gap in the bushes, and leaned back as he spoke. All of them waiting for him to continue, but all that erupted from the silence was nervous laughter. 

“I was under the impression that you had one,” Garroth said pointedly. 

“Great,” Laurance grunted. “We’re doomed.”

“Hey, wait-” 

“You’re the one who knows the wolf camp inside and out!” 

“And you brought us here,” Laurance added.

“Well- I- not completely!” His cheeks were bright with shame. “We were held captive underground. I only really got to see… _any_ of the village itself when we were released.” 

“But didn’t you go back? To save Logan.” 

“Of course I _tried._ But Donna and I could only go so far before we were attacked and had to flee.” 

Laurance snorted slightly. “Of _course_.” 

“Hey! I did the best with what I was working with. You’d do the same if you had Donna to protect too.” 

“You didn’t pick up _anything_ about the layout of this place on your way out?” 

“Nothing.” 

_“Irene.”_ Garroth glanced towards the huts hidden by the treeline, and the wolves pacing around the border, and some kind of fear settled deep within him. Without a plan, they were helpless. Vulnerable. Waiting and begging to be captured, killed. 

How could he stop it?

Aphmau narrowed her eyes in determination, refusing to leave Logan behind. She’d never abandon him. But even she seemed suddenly unsure of herself. Wondering if she, too, was too weak to help the lost merchant. 

Dante gritted his teeth. “Look. I’m-” 

“Er…” Malachi sat up, blinking curiously. “Couldn’t I just go invisible and scout the area?” 

They all paused.

“Huh?” 

“What?”

“Invisible?”

Malachi looked faintly disgruntled. “Ghost, remember?” 

Their form had been clearer since being freed from the castle, so much so that Garroth could almost convince himself that Malachi had not been killed so many years ago, but now their body gave a helpful flicker. “Ah.” 

“Malachi, that’s perfect!” Aphmau exclaimed, leaning back with a frantic grin. “Thank Irene for you.” 

“You’re a little genius, you are!” Laurance exclaimed, rubbing his adoptive child’s head fondly. “Just… be safe, okay?” 

“Of course I’ll be safe! I have to help you guys.”

Laurance’s smile was shaky, and Garroth could sense the currents of worry spilling from him as Malachi shimmered out of sight and their footsteps crunched away.

Alone in the snow, every second with Malachi gone screamed of danger. Laurance drew his sword and lazily began to sharpen it, leaning against a tree. Garroth took off his helm and held it by his side, letting patches of sunlight hitting his cheek. Oh, how he had missed Summer! He couldn’t wait to be back home, where the weather always seemed to be pleasant and the days were warm. 

But then he remembered.

He would not go home. He would go back to O’Khasis, cold, alone. His story would not have a happy ending. He would not see the Summer that he yearned for - not one in Phoenix Drop, anyway. 

He wondered how boring his days would become without someone like Laurance getting in his way but, he reflected, there _were_ plenty of arrogant bastards in O’Khasis. Although none of them would be worth acknowledging or fighting, and he had the feeling that it wouldn’t be the same, anyway. He had personal motivations to dislike Laurance, and he doubted that not many other men would be able to fill that specific void when they were separated.

He would be glad for the break, though, the blissful silence. It was the sacrifice he had to make in order to achieve it that seemed heartbreaking. 

He sensed eyes on him and locked gazes with Laurance, wondering if they were contemplating the same things. Well, Laurance would get what he had always wanted. He had Aphmau to himself. 

But from Laurance’s wary eyes, Garroth could never really determine what he wanted. It was always uncertain. His motivations, hopes, dreams, almost as shrouded in mystery as Garroth’s identity once had been before he had allowed himself to be vulnerable.

“So,” said Laurance slowly. “Off to O’Khasis, eh?” 

His smile was smug, knowing exactly how to nose at Garroth’s insecurities and vulnerabilities. Aphmau blinked, as if surprised that Laurance was already aware of Garroth’s plans, then shrugged. She knew that they had fought about Garroth staying or leaving. Laurance had been stained, marked, bruised for his arrogance. He wouldn’t soon forget that.

“Indeed,” Garroth said, inclining his chin, daring Laurance to continue. “Won’t you miss me?” 

“Oh, yes, I’ll miss your… er… idiotic tendencies - tauntability? Fightability? ” 

“Those are _not_ words.”

“I have a very specific language that small minds cannot even attempt to try and understand.” 

“Small mind, my ass,” Garroth scoffed. He strode across the clearing, flicking Laurance’s bruise as he passed, with the intention to linger closer to Aphmau, anxiously sitting cross legged in the snow.

The wind seemed to falter. Laurance stiffened slightly, and it was only the man’s movement that made Garroth pause, scanning the foliage. 

Only to come nose to nose with a canine muzzle and a pair of yellow eyes, drifting through the shadow like a pair of lanterns. 

Garroth drew his sword with a yell and instantly, paws were on his chest, slamming him down on the ground. As he writhed, it snapped a warning, teeth dangerously close to his cheek. He shoved back with his blade, kicking, but this was no Laurance that he could send crawling away. The giant, matted beast would not move. 

A blur slammed into the wolf and it stumbled away from him, growling. Laurance straightened. 

“Need a hand?” 

“That’d be nice, yeah.” 

He grabbed Laurance and was tugged to his feet, only to watch a wolf seize him by the collar and drag him down into the dirt, shaking him slightly. They were instantly circled by two more wolves, guarding the border to their camp, and another growling from behind Garroth, fur bristled. 

In slurred tongue, the wolf holding Laurance spoke, one paw planted firmly on his chest, grinding his body into the mud. “Move, and this human dies.” 

Garroth froze. _As tempting as that is…_

“Follow.”

In his jaws, the wolf picked up Laurance by his collar like a cub and began to drag him in the direction of the village. Laurance’s eyes were slumped, a trickle of blood running from his chin, as if playing dead, but his pupils were wide with terror. The other wolves snarled, closing in around them, escorting them onwards. Aphmau locked eyes with Garroth and nodded, a silent order. Dante walked beside Garroth, teeth gritted. Garroth suspected that he was far too familiar with the wolves, and what they were capable of.

He paused to seriously consider: would Laurance die? Was that what Dante was suddenly thinking - that he would ultimately lose to the wolves that had captured him? That they would take the life of a friend? 

Would Garroth care?

Perhaps he would, he thought, just a little bit, and it was that that made him move forwards. The wolves drove them into the village, and now Dante scanned their surroundings, taking it all in. 

_Bit late for that, don’t you think?_ He mouthed the words at Dante, who rolled his eyes in return. 

The wolves escorted them into a dark cavern, dimly lit by intricately carved torches, twined with an ancient message unfamiliar to Garroth. The canines spread around behind them, guarding the entrance, until Garroth could only see via the flickering firelight - a jagged muzzle from the darkness, tufted fur, the gleam of an amber eye. A dark wolf, larger than any that Garroth had ever seen, lurked in the darkness, body half curled on a dark throne, half-glowing from the torch-light. 

It snarled briefly, and the wolf holding Laurance tossed him at Garroth’s feet. Laurance bit out a groan, too unsteady to wave off Garroth from helping him to his feet and awkwardly allowing the other guard to lean on him. 

Laurance’s face dropped against his shoulder.

_Ugh._

“You,” the large wolf said, pointing a long, elegant claw to Aphmau. She froze. Garroth wished he could reach out to her, help her or comfort her, protect her, somehow. But when he tried to take a step to her, a wolf blocked his way and nudged her forward. 

“Only her,” their leader rumbled.

Up the stairs carved from the rock to stand before the throne, Aphmau sank into a shaking bow. 

Garroth could only watch, helpless. Dante stood beside him, eyes glittering with hatred for their captors, wanting to do something but afraid to provoke them into attacking. Completely surrounded. 

He could do nothing but hold up Laurance, who was blinking drowsily. The wolf carrying him had not been kind, and his head had no doubt suffered from being dragged along the ground. 

“Gar…” 

“Shut up,” he muttered as a wolf snarled in their direction, commanding silence as Aphmau straightened to meet the gaze of the leader, challenging him. 

“You,” he growled, poking his muzzle into her face. “You smell like a werewolf. Are you…?” 

His eyes glittered with reluctant curiousity. 

“I’m no werewolf,” Aphmau managed. “I’m a friend of werewolves.” 

The canines surrounding them peeled back their lips, snarling furiously.

“Friend!” The word was hurled around, mocked, sneered at. The leader inclined his muzzle.

“There is no such thing as a _friend_ to us. Any werewolf that thinks so is a soft _pet,_ a plaything for humans.” 

“They aren’t-” 

“Silence!”

“Please, I’m- I’m here for Logan.” 

“Logan!” Again, the name was snarled, passed from wolf to wolf, cursing the merchant with every gritted breath. Laurance groaned into Garroth’s shoulder. 

“The _spy,”_ the leader spat. “The human-wolf’s first mistake was trying to hide his transformation. His second was claiming to have a relationship with a human to save his skin.”

“But that’s-” 

“Humans have no care for us. No friends. No mates. Only allies, allegiances, _war._ None of your mortal _feelings_.” 

Garroth could sense Aphmau’s patience growing thin as she clenched her fists by her side, trying to find words that would not provoke the wolves. A young female wolf snapped at Garroth’s heels, and it took all of his control not to kick out at her. 

“Allies?” Aphmau managed. 

“The High Priest.” 

“Z… Zane?”

Garroth froze. That name was bitter on his tongue; he bowed his head. That was his blood, his brother, tainting every world, every culture he stumbled across. Garroth’s family name that Laurance hated so much, destroying everything in its path.

“That is his human name,” the leader rumbled. “The High Priest is a King in our ranks; he commands great armies, allows us to gather strong forces and powers - gives us more control than we could have hoped for.”

“To… to do what?” 

“To crush any other wolves that oppose us.” 

“That’s - that’s not right! You can’t-” 

“Isn’t it?” The wolf’s eyes gleamed from the dark, shoving his muzzle into her face, making her jump. “For centuries, my tribe has been weak. Vulnerable. We had no hunting grounds - we were starved, denied any help from any other wolf. No human, no wolf would dare to help us, except for the King.” 

Garroth felt chills skittering over his bones as the wolf lifted his head and locked gazes with him, then Dante, jaws parting slightly, perhaps recognising him from a prior meeting. Openly laughing at their shock, their silent fear. “Now we are in control. You will suffer.” 

He let out a low snarl to the wolves surrounding them and as one, they swarmed to attack. Laurance was ripped away from him by the female wolf and shaken roughly. Garroth swore roughly and kicked at her, only to be tackled by a larger male, dragging him by his feet out of the cavern. He swung his sword wildly, desperate to find a target, but it fell to the floor as teeth sank into his arm. 

“Agh!” 

Through a yellow and green haze, he tried to separate wolf from human. Dante moved to protect Aphmau, but even he could do nothing against the leader, knocking him aside with a massive paw. He tossed Aphmau aside, allowing them to take her too. Even as she stumbled, she hugged her coat to her chest, and through a vague blur, Garroth recognised that she was protecting the baby owl.

_You fucking idiot, Aphmau, save yourself!_

But she was taken by her collar and hauled away, too, ahead of him. 

Garroth had to both pity and admire Dante, the final one standing, bruised and bleeding, but eyes wild with determination, shaggy hair spiking in all directions. He managed to stab one wolf in the chest, and dangling from a canine’s jaws, Garroth dared to hope that Dante could somehow get them out of there. But another wolf dragged him down, and another nipped at his chest, slamming him onto the floor, crying out as his skin grazed the rough, jagged stone. 

“To the cell!” the leader howled. 

“No - no - not - again… I won’t let you!” But even Dante’s distraught cry did nothing to soothe the wolves, and they hauled him out of the cavern alongside the others. 

Hanging from ragged jaws, completely and utterly powerless, Garroth caught a glimpse of Laurance, being carried next to him, limp and…

“Laur…” Garroth struggled to find words, to wake him up. Surely, he would, right? 

Surely. 

Laurance did not stir. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


If Dante could have gone back in time, he knew that he would have done a lot differently. Perhaps starting with repairing his childhood, he thought through a dull buzzing in his mind screaming for revenge, although there was plenty in the present to be fixed, too. Never getting himself involved with werewolves in the first place, to begin with - and leading a Lord and her companions back to said werewolves, practically begging for them to be slaughtered. He had done so much wrong. Hurt so many people. 

If not for him, Gene would still be alive. 

If not for him and his shitty observation skills, they would not be in a jail cell.

_Smart move, Dante. Some guard_ **_you_ ** _are._

The wolves had tossed them, none too kindly, into a cell, all three of the men. Stripped them of their uniforms, weapons, possessions. Half-naked and shivering from the cold, Dante paced from wall to wall, tasting blood in his mouth and feeling his wounds sting, more from his damaged dignity and pride than pain. 

Gene had been right, after all, a triumphant anti-hero defending himself from his evil brother.

Dante truly meant nothing, and never would. 

“Would you _sit still?”_ Garroth turned to him, arms awkwardly trying to cover his bare chest. Dante raised a brow at him, wondering how insecurity and self-consciousness could be Garroth’s priority in the moment. The guard was crouched before Laurance, inspecting his head. 

“Sorry, sir, I’m just wondering how the _fuck_ we’re going to get out of this one.” He hadn’t meant to be cruel - as it was with most of his speech, he never meant to sound angry, but suddenly he was glaring at Garroth anyway. 

The man stiffened, then returned to his task. He was deliberately watching Laurance’s face, refusing to acknowledge his chest. 

“Ugh. Come on, get up.” 

“He’s not dead, what more do you want?”

“The more people awake, the better, I suppose,” Garroth said, flushing. 

He had to guess that Aphmau was unconscious - either that, or she was being strangely silent. Without her, there was no one to convince him that he was _good._

He resumed his path, pacing back and forth in the cell, trying to walk away the bitter chill of the Winter air. Despite himself, he had to agree with Garroth - without his weapons, his baggy uniform, he wasn’t himself. His crimes, his dirty soul, seemed bared to the world.

A sharp slap rang out through the cell, followed by a low groan. 

“Huh. That actually worked.”

“Did you just-” Dante turned around as Laurance slumped over, hollow gaze dazed, uncertain, hair hanging over his eyes. 

Garroth brushed strands of hair aside to wave a hand in front of him. “How many fingers?” 

He held up a middle finger.

“I… I swear we’ve been through this before,” Laurance muttered faintly, clutching his head. “ _Fuck.”_

Dante had no idea what they were talking about, but Garroth seemed to glow with recognition. “Yeah, you’ll live.” His boot poked at Laurance’s arm. 

Laurance reached a blind hand out in protest, touched skin, and recoiled from Garroth's chest. "Wha... are you _shirtless?"_ He blinked, startled, then inspected himself and gritted his teeth. " _Right."_

"What? You shy, Laurance?"

Dante couldn’t helped but be faintly amused by the pair of them, but he still struggled to see any bright side to their captivity. He resumed pacing. 

“For Irene’s sake, Dante, sit still!” Garroth hissed.

  
“I am _trying_ to figure out a way to get us out of this!” 

“It’d make it easier for all of us if you _stopped panicking_ for just a moment!” 

From the dark, a voice rippled through the bars of their cell, deep and regal. 

  
“Oh, boys, don’t panic _just_ yet.”


	21. episode twenty one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Alrighty Aphrodite by Peach Pit !! Sorry for the short chapter today! < 3

  
  
  


_ That darkness still hounded her into dreams. There was no face. It was no beast, no wolf. No face, no jaws or claws - only a seething, writhing, glittering mass of shadow and the sighs of powers lost to another time. An aching, angry force of magick, chanting of vengeance. Life and death personified without a body. The soul of… of…  _

_ Aphmau could hear it dragging long, spindly talons across her mind without moving, a slight breath against her cheek, as if welcoming her home. Yet the shadows and darkness itself did not stir as she slid into the room. The Nether Fortress groaned slightly under her feet , and even the walls seemed carved from ancient pleas, scrawls in old language. People pleading for help. Begging to be set free.  _

_ A hand rested on her shoulder.  _

_ Of course, she had to remind herself, she was not alone. She would never be alone. _

_ She had Laurance.  _

_ And her family waiting for her at home. Garroth. Levin. Phoenix Drop, patiently wishing for its Lord to return.  _

**_I will,_ ** _ she swore,  _ **_I will._ **

_ When she turned to Laurance, she almost surprised herself. For some reason, he didn’t seem… right. His bright, ginger braid flickered like torchlight. But when she peered at him, what felt familiar, warm and comforting, was not the glow of his hair like lamps in the darkness, but a shorter, fluffy cut. _

_ Eyes blue, not green. She craved a Meteli storm in his iris, not bright Summertime.  _

_ But, lost in her memory, she couldn’t place  _ **_why._ **

_ “Aphmau?”  _

_ “Shh…” She gestured to the dormant entity of shadows, and Laurance stiffened, eyes wide.  _

_ Whatever it was, it seemed to be asleep. And she had  _ **_no_ ** _ intention of waking it up. _

_ “Castor!” Laurance hissed. Along the wall, behind a thick set of iron bars, a man donning a thick, woolly sweater peppered with feathers - despite the heat - sat up, shifting tangled hair out of his eyes.  _

_ “Eh?”  _

_ His eyes lit up upon seeing Aphmau. “It’s  _ **_you!_ ** _ You… wait. You’re the fraud who sold me a shitty chicken coop!” _

_ “Are we still on that!?” She gritted her teeth. “You wouldn’t talk to me unless I did something for you first!”  _

_ “ _ **_You_ ** _ insulted me-”  _

_ “You had Cadenza!”  _

_ Beside her, Laurance stiffened slightly at the mention of his sister - Aphmau knew that he missed her very badly, but his easy flirting and arrogance around Meteli hid his longing to have a sibling again. On the beach, where no one would hear their conversation over the howling wind and sea, he had confided in her, and her in him. He had told her that he was talented at hiding. She hadn’t understood at the time, but later he had confessed what, exactly, he was hiding from.  _

_ Himself. _

**_Soon,_ ** _ she swore to him.  _

**_I’ll never let you be alone._ **

_ “Get on with it,” Laurance growled, motioning to Castor, who was deliberately ignoring him. Aphmau crept past the shadows, and with every lurch of the fortress under her feet, rising and falling like breathing in its slumber, she was afraid that it would wake up. _

_ “Aphmau-”  _

_ “Shh,” she urged, gripping the bars of Castor’s cell. “Laurance, can you pick a lock?” _

_ “Can I!?” He spluttered slightly. “I’m a guard, not a thief!”  _

_ She raised an eyebrow. He sighed, then slid over to her.  _

_ “Here. Move over.”  _

_ He pulled a spindly clip out of his hair, shaking free his braid, and bent down. “This is going to take longer than I’d like.”  _

_ “That’s okay.” But still, every second that passed reminded her that the Nether was one of the most dangerous places to be. Time was running out. Castor tapped his foot impatiently.  _

_ “You’ve got to let me cut it when we get back,” Aphmau said.  _

_ “My hair?”  _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ He did not look away from his task, but his eyes flickered slightly. With a triumphant click, the lock slid free, and he stepped aside to allow Castor out of his prison. The shaman barely acknowledged him, carrying a quivering bird in his arms and stroking it soothingly.  _

_ “A chicken. You have  _ **_got_ ** _ to be kidding me.” _

_ “Young sir, I would never joke about chickens.” After a moment, he lifted his chin. “What’s your name, again?” _

_ “You’ve known me for years, Castor.”  _

_ “Enough,” Aphmau said, commandingly enough that they both paused to look at her. “Let’s  _ **_go.”_ **

_ She couldn’t wait to be free of the Fortress and its warriors, and the shadows that seemed to follow their path to the door. It seemed to watch her, and her alone, searching for something that she didn’t have. _

_ But as she stepped across the threshold, she felt the rumbling of the Fortress, yawning like thunder splitting over the sky, and the crackle of ancient breathing down her neck like lightning soon after.  _

_ The entity moved, and swelled, and smokey talons were no longer toys of her mind, but physical weapons animated into life, reaching for her. She swung her dagger, but where the blade connected, the shadows only shifted to replace what had been lost. It sprang with a hunger for her, to know her, make her pay. Laurance lunged to defend her, only to be jerked back by his collar by Castor.  _

_ “Hey-”  _

_ “Aphmau, back!”  _

_ She scrambled away, and as she burst out into the hallway, a brick wall closed behind her. Castor swayed slightly, but managed to stay upright through his magicks. On the ground, she ignored her scraped knees, her sore palms, knuckles white as she clutched her dagger. Her lessons with Garroth didn’t feel so useless now.  _

_ Finally confronted with the idea that she could, and would be attacked. Not only for being a Lord, but merely existing.  _

_ There came an awful, broken howling, and the pounding of darkness itself against the brick wall that Castor had cast between them and that… that thing. A brick fell loose, and a single shadowed black claw reached through the gap, searching wildly, hungrily for them.  _

_ Laurance’s eyes were wide. Not with fear for himself, but looking at her, and every secret that he had ever confessed to her seemed to shake like a vow between them. A silent promise. _

_ “Go,” he said, and she had never hated a word more. “I’ll hold it off.”  _

  
  


_ She knew what he wanted. At that moment, it seemed like such a Garroth thing to do, and almost laughed that they were the same. Almost.  _

_ She didn’t move. Another brick was shoved away, almost hitting her.  _

_ “Aphmau, go! GO!”  _

_ “I won’t leave you.”  _

_ “Aphmau-”  _

_ “I promised I wouldn’t-”  _

**_“GO!”_ **

_ He shoved her away. And when she tried to crawl back to him he kicked her away, tears in those Summertime eyes. She hauled herself up, clinging to him.  _

_ “Laurance, run, with me, run-”  _

_ “Get out of here!”  _

_ He half-threw her away from him, sword drawn, already poised to swing. _

_ Castor was already running when the wall came crashing down. And out of the smoke, the darkness crawled for Laurance. His sword was nothing. He fell, writhing from attacks that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at all. A single hand reached out to her, clasping at her, as the entity bent over him. Inspecting his body. And still he was begging for her to run. To save herself.  _

_ Hating herself, she did. _

_ Choking out her cries, she sprinted down the hallway and onto the stairs, and the breathing of darkness itself rattled her bones, even as she went. As if studying her body, and what she had been before she lost her memories. Another life away, this thing beckoned to her.  _

_ Her feet stumbled on a missing stair and she crumpled, folding in on herself. Falling, desperately clawing at the bricks, the walls, as if she could crawl her way back to her friend.  _

**_I have to - go back - for him-_ **

_ “Aphmau!” Castor hauled her up from the foot of the stairs, head ringing with incoherencies. Even as she hated herself, cursed herself for every stumbling, shaking step she took away from that Fortress, she was afraid to try again. To go back.  _

_ Laurance needed her.  _

_ But through it all, she was certain that somehow, through some forgotten memory, she  _ **_knew_ ** _ the darkness. Had spoken with it, felt it. She knew its name.  _

_ And now Laurance was its victim.  _

_ “No, no, Castor, we have to - we have to go back!”  _

_ Yet she did not turn.  _

* * *

She awoke against the wall, gasping for air. It was not fire and smoke that chained her down - in fact, her hands and legs were free - but dry, damp air. Yellow stars swam over her vision as she straightened, groaning into a leathered shoulder. 

The breeze hit her legs and bare stomach and that sharpened her senses, sitting up, alert. She was slumped against a dirty, blond man, in nothing but her underwear. It took her too long to recognise the face, scarred and crusted with dried blood. 

“Lo...Logan…?” 

His eyes were half closed, dulled with pain, but he managed a smirk. “So… so you finally made it here… with your noble… saviour bullshit.” 

“I don’t feel like a saviour,” she whispered, voice cracking. She could only remember dull flashes of her wild, unsteady dreams, but she knew the Nether. And she would not forget leaving Laurance, that scene that she had seen over and over. Wondering if things would be different if she had died in his place that day. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“... Is Donna okay?”

“Yes, she’s - she’s okay. She’s safe.” 

The merchant sagged in quiet relief, cradling himself - his pain didn’t seem to matter, as long as his wife was okay. “You came such a… long way…” His eyelids drooped, struggling to stay awake for her.

“Hold on, Logan,” she said, clearing her throat and finding her voice. Shouts erupted from across the room in glee as they heard her stir, and as she stumbled to her feet to the bars of her cell, familiar shapes were in a cell opposite to her. 

She named their faces and, despite the awful situation, grinned. 

Laurance, Garroth, Dante. All shirtless, looking cold and uncomfortable, but  _ safe.  _

She wrapped her fingers around the bars of the jail, reaching out to them, knowing that they couldn’t touch her but at least recognise that she was okay. 

It would be okay, wouldn’t it? 

With a sinking heart, she realised that she couldn’t see a clear path out. She had no plan, no Lord’s trick, no magick to help her destroy the cell. She was trapped, away from her guards, weaponless and half-naked. 

She swallowed. 

“Aphmau?”

Through her panic, she realised that she was being spoken to. 

“Are you okay!?”

“I’m fine,” she managed. “You?” 

Dante swallowed. “We’re all okay. Laurance is a little bit battered, but we’re alive, which is the important thing. But… I don’t think… I see a way out.” 

Garroth ran his hands through his hair. “No weapons. Nothing. They took everything.”

Dante swore foully and suddenly, as if that had only just occurred to him, hands grabbing invisible pockets. Garroth jumped. 

“Shit, shit, no-” 

“Er…” 

He began to pace, muttering under his breath. Laurance locked eyes with Aphmau. Perhaps the jail cell was familiar to him, just as it had stirred uncomfortable memories for her, too. She clenched her hands into fists, turning her palms white. 

Should she - 

No. She refused to acknowledge the word  _ ‘magick’.  _ It was cursed, villainous. Forbidden from her tongue. 

“We have to put our heads together and think of an appropriate plan,” Garroth said, leaning against the wall, arms awkwardly covering his chest.

“Now that your lovely little girl is awake,” came a deep voice, “perhaps you’ll listen to me?” 

As one, the men turned towards the corner of her cell. Aphmau had been too tired, or too stressed to notice the tiny stool in the corner, where a thick figure sat half in shadow. There was a cauldron, evidently for water, that the stranger’s legs were propped up on lazily. They glanced over their shoulder, then leaned into the light. 

Aphmau flushed. It was a girl that slid onto her feet, cocking her head. It was a taller, thicker version of  _ her.  _ She was dark skinned, warm-eyed, with full, curly ginger hair down to her hips, wearing only her underwear, but Aphmau was startled to see lighter patches across her skin. 

“Vitiligo,” the stranger said by way of explanation, smirking slightly. “First time in captivity, eh, flower?” 

With her hand, she patted Aphmau’s cheek. Her hand was warm, despite the chill in the cell. 

“Flower?” 

“You’re a delicate one,” the woman purred lightly.

From the next cell, Garroth and Laurance made the same noise of disgust, then glanced at each other, surprised to be in unison.

_ Delicate?  _

“Watch your tongue, lady, before I rip it out.”

The stranger leaned back and chuckled deeply, easily entertained. “Ooo! A  _ tough  _ one, then! Psh… it’s clear to see that your heart is pure, even if you don’t think so yourself. I can tell - a kind heart is a perfect ingredient for any notable witch’s brew.”

“Witch?”

As Aphmau’s gaze wandered, she realised that the woman seemed quite comfortable and confident where she was. She leaned against the wall, beside small wooden shelves stacked with… ingredients? 

The woman spread her arms with a wink. “Witch, indeed.” 

She must have noticed Aphmau’s sudden look of irrational fear, because she laughed. “Oh, calm down, flower, I’m not actually going to steal your heart! Silly… I’m not that kind of witch.” She looked Aphmau up and down curiously, ignoring her furious blushing. “I’m Lucinda.” 

“Aphmau.” 

“Huh. Cute. You know Logan, then?” 

Straight to the point then - Aphmau was okay with that. Something about the glow in the woman’s eyes seemed excited, despite her lazy body language, and despite herself, something about Lucinda intrigued her. 

“I am a Lord. Logan is a merchant from my town.” She was determined to keep her identity as hidden as possible, but Lucinda made her want to confess her tales, her stories. She had to bite her tongue, wondering if it was some kind of spell making her so eager, or simply… the impressive presence of the woman herself.

“A lord!” Lucinda exclaimed. “See, I told you! Kind heart. You came all of this way, a Lord, just for a merchant? That’s a  _ guard’s  _ job, flower.” 

She bobbed her head towards the three men in the opposite cell. Garroth flushed, scowling slightly. Dante barely even acknowledged them.

Aphmau folded her arms over her chest, waiting for Lucinda to continue, perhaps to insult her, but the woman shrugged. 

“So?” Aphmau finally prompted.

Lucinda blinked slowly, seductively, seeming more feline than human in that moment. She hopped onto her stool, drumming her nails on the wood. “Make yourself at home, flower. You’ll be here for a while.”

“I...no…” 

“You will. I can’t do anything for you.” 

“But you’re a witch!” 

“I don’t have my familiar with me,” Lucinda said mournfully. “I’m here because the wolves are waiting for me to make them stronger, but I can’t do anything even if I wanted to without my familiar. I’m…”

“Trapped?”

“Yup.” 

“Tell me about your familiar.”

She hesitated, then shrugged lazily. “Bigglesworth is my owl. A small spotted white owl. He’s my closest companion, and losing him feels like losing… a limb, to you.”

Aphmau held one arm in her other hand, wincing slightly. “Oh.”

Something nagged at her about that description, a memory nipping at her heels. 

“ _ Bigglesworth?”  _ Laurance snorted slightly. “What kind of a name-” 

“I was  _ young,  _ what do you expect? Imagine a miniature owl and a teenager. You’d name it something silly, too.” 

“I’d name it-” 

“Do  _ not  _ finish that sentence.” Garroth raised an eyebrow. 

“I wasn’t-” 

“I know  _ exactly  _ what you were going to suggest. Some crude, vile name suitable for only your standards.”

“Pshh…”

They fell silent, Garroth fixing Laurance with a glare.

“Aphmau?” 

A child’s voice stuttered into the empty air.

Lucinda cried out, then covered her mouth, as if unwilling to admit that she had been startled. “A ghost…?” 

“Malachi!” Laurance lunged for the bars on his cell, reaching out a hand. The child’s form was flickering in and out as they slumped on the floor, peering proudly up at them all. Perched on their shoulder was the small, tiny owl, body faded slightly from being close to Malachi. 

“Malachi!” 

“Bigglesworth!”

Both Aphmau and Lucinda flew forward. The owl hopped to the floor and skittered to Lucinda, making soft noises of content as she snuggled the bird against her chest. Malachi hugged Aphmau, swaying slightly. 

“Hey, hey, you okay?” 

“I’m… I’m okay… just tired.” 

“Malachi, talk to me!” Laurance peered anxiously through his cell. “You alright?”

“I’m okay, dad.” 

Despite himself, Garroth slid up alongside him, openly concerned. “You’re not hurt?” 

“ _ No,  _ dad, I’m fine, I swear. Stop fussing.” But from the glow in Malachi’s eyes, their wide, breathless smile, they never wanted Laurance or Garroth to stop fussing, ever.

“Bigglesworth, thank goodness, you’re safe.” Lucinda soothed her owl, the friendliest that Aphmau had ever seen her. She bent down to inspect Malachi. 

“Who is-” 

“ _ They  _ are a member of my group. Malachi is a ghost.” 

“Ah.” Lucinda nodded, eyes shining curiously. “Did you save my owl?” 

“Aphmau did,” Malachi said, fiddling with their scarf. “I only took care of Owly.” 

“Owly?” 

Aphmau winced, but Lucinda surprised her with a delighted laugh. 

“Both of you, thank you.” She placed Bigglesworth on her shoulder. “So this child is yours?”

She looked expectantly at Laurance and Garroth, who flushed, nodding. 

“Huh.” She was clearly trying to decipher the relationship between Laurance and Garroth, which Aphmau couldn’t even begin to understand. She lifted her gaze to Aphmau. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready?”

Lucinda stroked her familiar, eyes gleaming. “This changes everything.” 

Aphmau felt her guards stir with new hope, and she herself straightened, confident despite her appearance.

“We’re getting out of here!” Lucinda crowed, and Aphmau did not dare to disagree. 

  
  
  



	22. episode twenty two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Banks by Lincoln !! I'm sorry that updates have been so short as of late, I'm not feeling my best currently! The next chapters should be better. Thanks for reading <333

  
  
  


The night was cold, made harsher by their lack of clothing. Aphmau fell asleep easily, leaning against Lucinda’s cauldron, curling against its warmth. The air was quiet. Lucinda had settled easily, sitting cross-legged on her stool with Bigglesworth nestled against her neck; she didn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest. 

Dante awkwardly washed his face with the water pail in the corner of the cell, running damp hands through his hair, over his eyes, trying to blink away the truth. There was an aching, gaping hole by his side, where his uniform should have held his amulet, there was only emptiness. 

A piece of him, of Gene, stolen away. 

Was it waiting for him, beckoning to him? Or had a wolf crushed the glass and metal in its claws?

Dante knew somewhere, deep inside of him, that he would never be able to piece himself together like shards of glass, trying to peer through the mirror to see his brother. It would never happen. But he still prayed that one day, through the amulet, a voice would soothe his unsteady heart. 

Gene could curse him to Hell. Hate him, want nothing to do with him, but just hearing that voice would be… something. Better than nothing at all. 

He knew that his soft, jerking movements were making Garroth nervous. He held one of his hands in the other, hugging himself as he sank against the wall, close to Garroth and Laurance, both of which shivering from the chilled air. The glowing torches strung around them did nothing to protect them from the Winter. 

“It’s just  _ science,”  _ Laurance was protesting as Garroth leaned away from him. “Body heat or… something like that.”

“Get your filthy hands away from me!”

“Ugh! Garroth, I’m  _ cold!”  _

“That’s not  _ my  _ problem!”

Dante struggled to stifle his leg bouncing on the bricks, trying to calm himself. His amulet would survive the ordeal, and so would he. He only had to wait for Lucinda’s power to swell overnight, and then he would be okay. Everything would be okay.

Right? 

  
  


_ Gene was distracted, floating in his mind away from the present and dreaming of his future. A future without Dante. Dante’s hair had grown back uneven, and whilst Gene had offered to trim it for him to prevent further accidents, his mind was clearly elsewhere as he ran the scissors over his blue curls. In fact, for the last few weeks, Gene had been distanced, rarely taking the time to acknowledge his younger brother. _

_ “Gene?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “What’s the matter?” He was trying his best to be polite, and well mannered, as his father had instructed him. He had seen Dante growing wild and unkept, playing with a group of boys around town, becoming slightly reckless when Gene wasn’t around to guide him. Dante was losing grasp on his dream to be a guard, like Gene. Worse, he didn't know what he wanted. He had spent his early years determined to live like his brother, not himself, and now found himself flailing when Gene didn’t pay attention to him. _

_ “You’ve gotta take care of your brother,” his Dad had said commandingly to Gene, eyes flickering from Gene, cowering behind his brother to Gene himself, looking faintly irritated.  _

_ “He doesn’t have to follow me around  _ **_everywhere_ ** _ I go,” he had protested. _

_ Dante had felt suffocated by his inability to protest. It was true, he depended strongly on Gene, so much so that it hurt to be separated from him. But he was doing his best to understand that his brother had his own life, responsibilities away from his family.  _

_ One of which being sweet little Nessa.  _

_ Nessa was the ‘flower of Boboros’, the Lord’s Daughter, and even Dante at his young age could tell that his brother was absolutely smitten with her. He couldn’t understand it, though. Love, or whatever they called it. Dante had never given it a second thought, content to be by himself or with Gene on most days, but seeing the way that he looked at her, it seemed a little clearer to him.  _

_ She was his world. Moon, stars, the song of the wild caught in her brown eyes. Gene adored her - and in return, she seemed content to merely be in his company. _

_ They were happy together.  _

_ Dante knew that his misfit group of friends weren’t truly ‘friends’, nor did they hold any shred of loyalty - they only tolerated him, and more than once he had caught them sneering at his strange haircuts or baggy clothes. If he abandoned them, though, he would have no one, and the thought of crawling back to Gene or his parents seemed humiliating in his teenage mind. _

_ Gene finished his haircut and patted Dante’s head fondly, eyes distracted. “Nothing’s the matter, bud.” _

_ “What are you doing tonight?” he pressed.  _

_ “Nothing of interest.” _

_ “Really?”  _

_ “Mhm.”  _

_ “Can I-” _

_ “And even if I was, Dante, you couldn’t come. This is adult stuff.” These days, Gene was easily frustrated.  _

_ “I’m an adult!” _

_ “No,” said Gene, curling his lip, “you’re not. I’m busy tonight. And if I catch you sulking around the streets I’ll drag you back home by your hair!” _

_ Dante turned before he could confront his reflection in the mirror, scowling deeply. But he knew by now that no pouting or whining would sway Gene now if he was determined to be alone.  _

_ Left behind. Again. Dante ran his hands through his hair, then pressed his fingers to the cold surface of the amulet in his pocket, reminding himself. Gene didn’t have time for him now, but he would later - the amulet was his silent promise. He wouldn’t forget.  _

_ It meant more knowing that Gene held those memories in his fist. He could crush them at any moment, but he would never do anything like that. Not to Dante.  _

_ His power… Dante barely understood it. Perhaps that was for a reason, to shield him from Gene’s abilities, the strange magick that he possessed in his blood. He could make anyone  _ **_forget._ **

_ When Dante was a child, he was very accident-prone. He had never really grown out of his awkwardness, bumbling unsteadiness, but it was worse in his youth. He broke valuable vases, knocked over ingredients. And every time, without fail, Gene would erase it from the mind of his family. As if it had never existed.  _

_ By protecting Dante, the vow was sealed - he would use his power to protect his family.  _

_ “I have things to do,” Gene said firmly. “So you can’t bother me. Okay? I’ve just done your hair for you, so that’s enough, right?”  _

_ “Yeah, yeah.”  _

_ It only seemed like a bribe to force him to stay away.  _ **_Don’t you want me around?_ **

_ He wrapped his fingers around the amulet as Gene strode out into the night. After a few quiet heartbeats of hesitation, Dante crept out after him. _

**_Just don’t get caught._ **

  
  


He was still awake, but the memories still chased him through the hours. That was the worst thing, he supposed, the irony of it all. He would never forget. He held a firm grip on his memories, and they always hunted him into the daytime, beyond the damage that any mere nightmare would do to him. Dante knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.

Ironically enough, despite his earlier protests, Garroth had fallen asleep, curled awkwardly against Laurance’s chest. Laurance seemed frozen against the wall, awake but barely breathing, as though trying not to disturb him. A laugh balanced on Dante’s tongue and cartwheeled away on an amused breath. 

“Heh.” 

“Something funny?” Laurance whispered hotly. 

“No, no… It’s just like you look like a man who has just had a cat fallen asleep in his lap and will never move again.”

“That’s not - even remotely true. I just… I don’t know, it would be wrong to wake him up. Plus, he’s  _ heavy _ , and crushing me.”

“I don’t know, you seem pretty comfortable.” 

“My legs are asleep, Dante!” 

He shuffled forward slightly, trying to stretch with Garroth slumped against him.

“On the bright side, I am  _ very  _ warm right now,” Laurance said with a shrug. “So there’s that.”

“He’s actually going to murder you when he wakes up.”

“Oh, I know,” the man chuckled. “But that’s a problem for  _ future  _ Laurance.” 

Dante had a feeling that future Laurance would regret that later, but slid close to the pair nonetheless, blinking away sleep that was suddenly threatening to drag him underneath the waves of reality. 

“You’re kinda like this idiot,” Laurance said absently, pointing his thumb at Garroth. “Too ‘noble’ to sleep.” 

“Garroth fell asleep.”

“Well, you know he’s tired when he falls asleep on  _ me.  _ I can tell you are, too. _ ” _

Despite himself, Dante’s head wavered, and his hair touched Laurance’s shoulder.

“I’m not noble,” he muttered drowsily. “Far from it.” He wanted to stay alert, keep thinking, planning, running from his past, but the events of the past week were catching up to him. 

After a moment, Dante found himself staring at Garroth’s cheek turned to the roof. He had a single, white scar, and a fresher pink one right beside it, like frayed thread twining across his freckles. Looking at the marks, Dante wondered if people saw  _ his  _ scar and were impossibly curious about that, too. Self consciously, his hand cupped his jawline, feeling the thin slice over the right side of his chin. Laurance didn’t notice. 

“Did you do that?” Dante dared to ask, motioning to Garroth’s cheek.

“Only one of them,” Laurance said. With a lazy finger, he traced the smaller, newer one. “Just a friendly training session in Phoenix Drop.” 

“Why do I get the feeling that it wasn’t that friendly?” 

“Hmm…” His hand moved, twining a blond curl between his fingers. 

“You are  _ so  _ done for,” Dante said. 

“Yeah,” said Laurance, eyes clouded with tiredness, giving into a yawn. Still, his mind seemed to roam elsewhere. “I know.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“You’re fucking dead!” 

“Garroth-” 

Aphmau wasn’t exactly delighted to jolt awake to loud voices and yelling, although upon seeing Garroth and Laurance standing at opposite ends of their cell, seething, she felt slightly better.  _ That,  _ at least, was normal. 

Dante was asleep in the corner.

“I didn’t  _ do  _ anything,” Laurance said flatly. “You’re the one who decided to fall asleep on me!” 

“I - did no such  _ thing!”  _

“It was  _ cold!”  _

“You were cuddling me back!” 

“You started it!”

Aphmau stretched delicately. Her eyes wandered - firstly to Malachi, curled up in the corner, sleeping through their fathers’ argument, which was probably for the best, and to Lucinda. The beautiful woman was ignoring the boys in the opposite cell, bent over her cauldron. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling slightly upon seeing Aphmau sitting up. 

“Well, good morning, flower.” 

“I… good morning.” 

“Your boyfriends are awfully talkative,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose in their direction. 

“They’re not  _ my  _ boyfriends. They’re - my guards.”

“They’re  _ something,  _ alright,” Lucinda said, rubbing her temples. “How the blue haired one can sleep through that, I’ll never understand. But on the bright side... you need to do something for me.” 

“What?” 

“Drink this,” Lucinda said, and she used a wooden bowl to scoop a thick, murky soup from her cauldron. Aphmau couldn’t hide her hesitation and slight disgust as she wriggled away, trying to avoid it. 

Lucinda laughed. “Of course, no witch’s brew is guaranteed to be pleasant, sweetheart. But it has the ingredients I managed to scrounge and bribe, and now it’s what will get us out of here.” Her gaze became stern. “ _ Drink.”  _

Hastily, Aphmau took the bowl and gulped at the soup - instantly, burning erupted from her throat into her chest and she choked, grabbing at her throat. 

“Aphmau?” Her spluttering had distracted Garroth, who now peered through the bars of his cell nervously. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, careful,” Lucinda said.

“Bit late for that,” Aphmau managed feebly. 

“What did you do to her!?” Laurance cried.

“Only what’s necessary. It’s a part of a ritual I need to perform on you.” With long fingers, she lifted Aphmau’s chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. “My presence is too powerful to pass through the barriers surrounding this place, and Logan won’t be moving anywhere for a while yet. It’s all up to  _ you _ .” 

Aphmau felt that burden, that responsibility like a knife twisted into her stomach. She was a Lord, a parent. She was everything to everyone, all at once. A poet, an artist, a warrior, whatever they needed to see in her, she would become. And through it all, she would keep smiling. Lucinda’s gaze was pleading, and Aphmau could understand that despite her calm, effortless exterior, she desperately wanted and needed to be free. 

_ They need my help. _

She’d add it to her list of kindnesses. Just another day as herself. 

“What do I need to do?” 

Lucinda’s eyes lit up with gratefulness, carefully concealed by her relaxed grin. “That’s the spirit.” 

Malachi was awake - and, surprisingly enough, so was Logan, barely. He seemed to be flickering in and out of consciousness, wavering in and out of reality. 

“Donna?” he whispered, reaching to Aphmau.

_ Things must be bad _ , Aphmau thought,  _ if he could mistake my dark skin for Donna’s paleness. _

She bent down before Logan. Malachi, eyes curious, crept past her towards Lucinda, although whether it was for her or to get a closer look at their owl friend, Aphmau couldn’t be certain.

“Logan, I’m… I’m not Donna.” 

His head drooped. “No?”

  
  
“Aphmau,” she prompted softly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, we have a plan.” 

“Wh… what is it?” 

_ I wish I knew.  _

“Trust me,” she said. Not for the first time, she wished that she could trust herself before she allowed her friends, her family, to place their lives in her hands. 

_ I can’t let them down now.  _

She approached Lucinda, who was wrapped in conversation with Malachi. Her eyes glowed with excitement as she inspected them, taking in their form. “You’re perfect!” she crowed. 

“For what?” Aphmau said, placing a protective hand on Malachi’s back. Laurance - and Garroth too - was placing his adoptive child in her care, trusting her to protect them. She could see his round eyes from across the room, clinging to the cell bars, desperately watching. 

Malachi blinked curiously.

Around her neck, Lucinda had a tiny string bearing a single moon carved from some kind of gemstone, almost so tiny and fragile that Aphmau hadn’t noticed. But surely the wolves would have taken it from her - 

“I got lucky,” Lucinda admitted. “The wolves didn’t want to touch me too much, since they wanted me to give them magick. I didn’t, obviously, but they didn’t want to risk losing me.  _ Idiots. _ That’s how I managed to scavenge ingredients and, well…  _ this.”  _

She unhooked the thread and dropped the necklace into Aphmau’s open palm. The moon glowed as it touched her skin, bathing her in a golden light. “Oh!” 

“Oh, thank goodness, that’s working!” Her eyes were bright. “Call this moon… well, a catalyst, I suppose. The soup I just fed you burned because it had werewolf essence in it, and it basically took on your body. The moon you have activates the magick I just gave you.”

“I- what?” 

“Put on the necklace,” Lucinda urged. 

Somewhat hesitantly, she tied the necklace around her neck, and instantly the searing pain returned, nestled deep within her stomach. She doubled over, gripping herself. Her fingers - long, angry claws, scrabbling feebly at the ground. She heard roars of surprise from her friends, Malachi trying to comfort her as she sank to her knees. 

“Aphmau!” 

“What did you do to her!?” Garroth yelled out. 

“It’s totally normal!” Lucinda protested.

“Normal!?”

The glow of the moon charm swelled and grew, swarming her like ants, consuming her body until she knew nothing but golden light and a dull static in her mind.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Garroth barely noticed that Dante was awake. They were all yelling. He was helpless - completely and utterly useless. He could not reach her, even comfort her. Aphmau, writhing on the ground. His Lord, fading before his very eyes. 

Fuck, he should have been a better Guard to her, a better friend. For a terrifying moment, it seemed as if she was… 

Dying. 

No. Not her. 

Anyone but her. 

He swore to himself that, if she survived, he would literally never complain about Laurance again just to see her safe, and smiling. A fool’s promise. But he prayed to Irene that whatever her pain was, it would vanish. 

The light faded. 

A wolf lifted a drowsy muzzle from the floor. Instantly, its hackles raised seeing the shirtless guards peering in shock from across the room, backed up against the wall. 

But those eyes were brown, a warm embrace, a broad smile, and Garroth knew it was her. 

“You turned her into a  _ fucking wolf!?”  _ Dante barked out, glaring at Lucinda.

“Pretty realistic, right?” Lucinda studied Aphmau, pride and passion glowing in her eyes. “Listen, flower. You still have your necklace.” 

He watched the fluffy wolf lift her chin, showing off the necklace holding her like a collar. The moon was no longer a crescent, but a full circle. 

“That is going to change,” Lucinda said, tapping Aphmau’s muzzle, making sure she was listening. “When that moon is a crescent again, you will be human again. You have to  _ hurry.”  _

The creature’s eyes were wide in panic, doubting herself, but Lucinda bent down, unafraid to be rough as she took her wolf face between her hands and held her firmly there. “This is what you have to do. You are going to sneak outside, and bring me back a staff that belongs to a barrier magicks user. Can you do that?” 

She widened her canine eyes.

_ “Can you?”  _

A shaky dipping of her head. 

“Good. With the staff, you are going to break the seal on the jail cells. And then, we run. Malachi will phase you out of the cell.”

“Isn’t that going to hurt Malachi?” Laurance cut in, eyes narrowed. 

“I can take it,” the ghost piped up. 

“If Malachi is hurt-” 

“Your child won’t be hurt, calm down.” Lucinda waved Laurance off, bending over her cauldron. “I have a strand of your hair here, Aphmau. I’ll make sure that Malachi passes for you while you’re gone.” 

“That’s- that sounds -” 

“Extremely dangerous and exciting? Yes, absolutely.” 

“I cannot believe I’m allowing this,” Garroth grunted, leaning back. “I’d rather cuddle Laurance then watch this.” 

“Hey, my cuddles aren’t that bad!” 

“Shut up.” 

“Boys, calm down, Aphmau will be fine. Hopefully.” 

“ _ Hopefully?”  _

But the wolf lifted her chin in determination, necklace gleaming. She would not refuse. She’d bear this burden, every burden, for her people. For once, Garroth wished she wasn’t so selfless.

_ Please come back.  _

_ For me.  _


	23. episode twenty three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Snail by Cavetown (ft. Chloe Moriondo) ,, sorry for the late update!!! Chapters will be posted a lot more regularly now!!

  
  


It stung, as if electricity was prickling through her fur. It hurt Malachi too, she knew, but they managed to grit their teeth and ghost her through the bars to the jail cell. In a single intake of breath, she was on the cobblestone.

Paws unsteady, fighting to keep upright. She wasn’t used to the feeling - bracing all four limbs on the ground, keeping her muzzle high. When she walked, she stumbled, and she didn’t dare to imagine running on her large, bumbling paws. She felt… like a _pup_. New into the world, curious and adventurous, colours fractured into a spectrum she wasn’t quite used to. Her dark animal eyes blinked furiously, trying to make sense of the cells. Lucinda’s hair had lost its glow. Dante’s anxiety seemed heightened, hair dulled and movements awkward as he crossed to the bars, peering down at her. 

Laurance chuckled under his breath. “You’re so… small.” 

Where she fought for protest, only an awkward whine fell away. _You’re kidding._

“I couldn’t turn you into a true werewolf,” Lucinda said awkwardly. “Only a wild wolf. So… you’re not bipedal, and you can’t speak.” 

_That’s-_ she caught herself and peeled back her lips from her teeth, trying to imitate a growl. 

Laurance and Dante burst into laughter, and she wished that she could get into their cell if only to nip at their ankles. _I’ll turn you into a wolf and see how you like it!_

Lucinda chuckled, bending down to Malachi. “Save your voice for when we can listen,” she advised drily. The twinkle in her eyes suddenly faltered as she took in the fluffy pup, dark eyes round with dismay. “Hey, don’t sweat it, flower. You’ll be fine. And remember - you’re my last hope.” 

Aphmau couldn’t bear one more _last hope_ , any more burdens to bear, people depending on her. It made her heart ache even more - and, luckily, she didn’t have the words or expression to convey how she didn’t want Lucinda to depend on her. It would make it hurt even more when Aphmau failed her. 

“Good luck,” the woman whispered, and Aphmau inclined her muzzle slightly. Her nose twitched, taking in the dry dampness of the cells, the grey and green dappled around her. New tastes, sights, scents to explore - she could easily unravel the werewolf scent from human, something she hadn’t understood before, could hear every voice like jagged strokes over her ears, stabbing flutters in the distant and the soft murmurs of nature itself bending around her.

In the next cell, Aphmau struggled to tear her eyes away from dried blood crusting the walls. Empty - but she didn’t dare to imagine what the wolves had done to its previous occupant. Nothing pretty. She skittered away with her tail between her legs, trying to fight her rising panic. 

_That won’t happen to us. I won’t let it._

Her guards watched in quiet concern as she stumbled slightly, then fell into a slow rhythm across the floor and to the stairs. Their soft voices chased her up, scrambling up the stairs with her jaws parted, trying to ignore their worries and focus on the task at hand. The sun hadn’t poked its bold head from the distant mountains, and the sky was still dark as Aphmau hauled herself into the snow. 

_Do it for them._

_When do I get to do it for myself?_

She shook her head. She didn’t have time to sink into self-pity and moaning of her petty frustrations, not when lives were at stake and her friends needed her.

She needed them, too. She would free them. 

She waded into the snow. From a human perspective under the sun, it had seemed as if springtime was melting the thick layers of ice away, but as a small wolf pup she was struggling to crawl about, her big paws awkwardly shoving through the paleness. 

She was already missing her human legs, the ease of walking and running without the eternal fear of being threatened for being in a different skin. She shook out her fur, bounded onwards, and almost collided into the broad legs of a werewolf. It dropped onto all fours, ears rigid in surprise. 

The large female had just left the cave where Aphmau had talked to their leader; and in the torchlight flickering from inside, canine silhouettes had their heads bowed as they talked. The female fixed Aphmau with a long glare, then trotted away.

_Can she tell…?_

The she-wolf disappeared into a hut, her long tail flicking out behind her. No alarms were called. The early morning was still silent, save for the conversations floating from the cave. 

“Think about it!” the Leader was saying, the words slurred. There were only a few wolves gathered around him, presumably his closest council. “We don’t need money when we have human weapons. We don’t have to touch other wolves when there are others to do it for us!” 

After a heartbeat of wariness, one wolf agreed. “The King is generous to us… but, Elder, why does he want the girl?” 

_Girl?_

Her fur bristled as she crept closer, paws hitting the warm stone. _Me. I’m the girl Zane wants._

She was still determined to avoid the filthy name - _Zane_ \- where she could, but his influence seemed to follow here wherever she went. She couldn’t hide from his growing power, not even as a wolf. He was a _King_ to them. She internally grimaced. 

When the Leader didn’t reply, the wolf pressed on. “Is there something special about her?”

Aphmau shoved that thought away. No. There would never be anything special about her, certainly nothing that could attract the attention of the High Priest. She would make herself worthless, invaluable, so that he would never look at her or touch her again. Phoenix Drop would be safe. 

“Hmph.” The Leader grunted, acknowledging that thought. 

“Perhaps…” 

“If there _is_ something special about her, perhaps we should rethink the King’s visit.” 

“He hasn’t told us anything.”

“Let him come, then,” the leader snarled suddenly. Aphmau jumped and crept back around the wall, afraid for them to see her.

_You blend in,_ she had to remind herself. 

But she didn’t know how much of the moon was left on the bracelet, and that stirred her onto her paws with new determination. 

“If he doesn’t tell us about her, I’ll crush his skull!” His paw slammed onto the stones, sending pebbles spraying in all directions. She scampered away as she heard them turn towards the entrance, bounding through the snow, kicking up flakes behind her. 

So they weren’t _completely_ under the control of Zane. They still had their beliefs and ideals, as flawed as they were, they were still making choices for themselves rather than for O’Khasis. 

Fear and adrenaline had allowed her to find her balance on all fours, and she ran with a new confidence. Something about the experience was suddenly… _enjoyable_. Or exciting, at least, as she bounded into the heart of the village, erupting from flurries of snow that she kicked with her paws, prancing under the dark sky. She felt safer in the shadows, as if the wolves would not recognise an impostor without the light. She felt bold, wild. Free. 

Like a wolf. 

A shape smaller than her moved from the blackness and she burst after it. As her paws collided with feathers and a duck began to shriek under her teeth, she jumped and sat back to let it run. Her eyes traced its escape with vivid curiosity, although she resisted the urge to go after it.

But something about her pup’s body had _enjoyed_ chasing it. Had liked seeing it cower, prey helpless against predator. She instantly cursed herself for that feeling. But something nagged at her. If she hadn’t been so helpless, so cowering, would she have become a predator rather than prey? She was sick and tired of being vulnerable. It was a Lord’s task to bear that burden, she knew, but something about it seemed… _lonely._

A predator would not have allowed Zane to continue his pursuit of power and terror. A predator would have _done something._

She felt the power tingling in her paws. 

Too late, she heard the pawsteps nearing her, and glanced up to see a slender female wolf peering down at her. She braced herself to run, although trying to seem innocent enough to pass for a pup with no grasp of the world. The she-wolf was slender and dark, barely visible from the grey night sky behind her, and as Aphmau sat in the snow, meeting her gaze, she could almost picture her in a human girl’s skin. 

Dark hair down to her hips, piercings, glowing golden eyes. A scar over her nose, just as the wolf had over her muzzle.

The wolf was waiting for her, eyes expectant. “Hm?” 

Aphmau realised that she had missed the question and cocked her head, eyes wide, trying to seem like a bumbling, naive pup still learning how to be a wolf. Was she even small enough to get away with that?

The she-wolf bowed her head and touched her nose to Aphmau’s kindly. “Don’t fret about missing the duck,” she said. Awkwardly, in surprise, Aphmau leaned into the touch. “Every young one is going to miss a kill at some point in their life. No shame.” 

She searched for sarcasm in those warm eyes and found… _nothing._ The wolf was being genuinely supportive; the illusion was still holding together. It only reminded her that she had to hurry, and stop being distracted.

Guilt swarmed through her. Aphmau _knew_ werewolves. What made this village any different? She had heard their Leader - they had been betrayed and left behind one too many a time. That could have been any of her friends. This werewolf could be her _friend._

Although perhaps her kindness would not last if she discovered that Aphmau was only masquerading as a meek, careless pup.

Still, she had never had parents. Had never felt that motherly, maternal sense of pride and achievement. The she-wolf licked her forehead, then trotted away, leaving Aphmau sitting there helpless, wondering how the currents of fate had dragged her into this position. She could have been anyone, done anything. Could have been better.

But Irene had other plans. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Get over it already, Garroth. So you fell asleep on me. Big deal.”

“Are we _still_ talking about this?” Dante interrupted with a slight scowl. 

“He keeps bringing it up!” 

“I am _not!”_

“Children,” Dante muttered, head in his hands. “I am sharing a cell with literal children.”

Lucinda laughed in amusement. “You three _are_ delightful, aren’t you! Aphmau must have her hands full with you lot.” 

Laurance, privately, had to agree. He couldn’t imagine that he was an easy person to be around, especially not when Garroth was also present to prod and provoke his temper. He couldn’t help the angry, volatile feelings that erupted when Garroth was close to him, taunting him, being _himself_. Ugh. 

It was irrational, foolish. But yet every fight left him craving more, needing something more to scoop him away from his own mind. Garroth left him alone, and Laurance would beg for more, not understanding why he so badly wanted the guard’s attention, and so the cycle would continue on and on, to Dante’s intense dismay. 

Dante was suddenly nervous at Lucinda, as if afraid that with those deep eyes, she could see too much of him. Laurance shuddered slightly. When she stared at him, it seemed as if she was searching for the Shadow Knight, not Laurance. And even worse, she did nothing with whatever secrets she found, merely buried them for herself. She intimidated Laurance, but he somewhat admired her, too. Her confidence was infectious, making him somewhat giddy as he grabbed Garroth’s arm.

He was instantly brushed off, and pouted slightly. Shy, blushing Garroth was probably wary of Lucinda, paranoid of her power and how it could hurt Aphmau. No regard for his own safety, of course, because when had Garroth ever been selfish? 

Laurance blinked away the thought that he had seen Garroth being selfish plenty of times; most of them when it was just them alone. No eyes watching them, and they could be themselves. 

Aphmau would call him reserved. Laurance had called him a coward, too many times, but now he… almost regretted it.

_That’s just the cell talking. There’s no need for apologies yet - we’re not on our deathbed._

He was struggling to convince himself. His life was in Aphmau’s hands - he trusted her, his best friend, of course, but some irrational part of him was already preparing to rot in a cell with Garroth Ro’meave. Had it been so bad, so far? No. Not exactly. He hadn’t hated having someone warm to sleep with in the cold weather, especially with Dante on his other side. 

Logically, he didn’t want to die being stuck with the Phoenix Drop guard. 

But illogically, he thought it wasn’t so bad. 

“Do you and your boyfriend ever stop arguing?” Lucinda asked, eyes gleaming. 

_Boyfriend?_

Garroth’s gaze flew to Malachi, sitting innocently cross legged in front of Lucinda as she tried to prepare whatever magick she had to make them look like Aphmau. 

_Oh, shit, that’s right, I forgot I’m actually supposed to like him!_

“Er…”

_“No,_ we don’t. It’s only fun, _”_ Laurance cut in swiftly, grinning lazily. “He’s such an idiot, how could I resist?” 

Garroth was struggling to fight the disgust from his expression. “Whatever, prick.”

  
  


_He got in trouble for fighting the boys who had thrown rocks at him - although he never understood why no one had wanted him to defend himself except for Cadenza In fact, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. As long as he lived, he would never forget the look on poor little Jodie’s face - as the boy called himself a leader - when Laurance and Cadenza, glowing in their gowns, had charged them down. Cries of outrage had erupted around them._

**_Yeah, that’s right_ ** _, he had thought viciously._ **_I’m not gonna sit and take it._ **

_No more stones, but Laurance would always bear the slight scars to prove it. He wouldn’t forget, not for a long time. He hung the dress in his cupboard, an infinite reminder, and whenever he looked at it his cheeks would burn. Not in shame, but in pride._

_One of those boys, a scrawny, curly-haired ghostly teen nicknamed Rabbit, had never laid a finger on him. Laurance had the sense that he had only gone along with Jodie just to protect himself, and didn’t care about hurting him, really. Selfish, sure, but he somewhat admired him for that. Plenty of kids hurled insults at him_ **_,_ ** _but Rabbit never reacted._

_Laurance needed that. He needed thst confidence, carelessness, that arrogance that allowed Rabbit to not give a fuck when he was teased or belittled. It seemed to him like magick, because how could a young boy be immune to cruelty?_

_It took him months to even persuade Rabbit to talk to him. Then another to convince him that Laurance was worthy of help. He begged for it, claiming that he would never survive without the effortless indifference that Rabbit possessed._

_“Please, you gotta do something for me,” he had said, clasping his hands together._

_“You don’t need my help.” Rabbit was older than him by a year. And, by definition, that gave him far more power than Laurance. “No one hits you anymore.”_

_“I’m sick of being weak,” Laurance said. “I’m being trained with a sword, but I need more than that…”_

_Rabbit’s brow cocked slightly, reluctantly interested. “You know how to use a sword?”_

_“Any weapon,” he boasted. Not entirely true._

_“I’ll trade you,” Rabbit reluctantly said. “You teach me how to fight, and I’ll share my infinite wisdom with you.”_

_At the time, Laurance was certain that what Rabbit possessed could only be wisdom._

_Right?_

_Laurance hated Summer, but he learned to love it on those hot days with Rabbit. He forgot how to miss the cold and the snow that formed his childhood with Cadenza, and replaced it with every lesson that Rabbit gave him. For every piece of advice, he abandoned a fractured piece of the past. One for every single memory Laurance wanted to forget. For once, he felt in control. He held the power. He enjoyed the thrill of battle, the sound of heavy breathing, feet dancing in the sand, swords clashing. He could even ignore his pounding heart and body dampened with sweat for the opportunity to win. Victory, suddenly, meant everything to him._

_“You’re a stubborn fucker, I’ll give you that,” Rabbit had laughed once upon a time, before Laurance had had an opportunity to demonstrate his skills in the ring. He had been taught to fight in order to protect him and his sister, but now he found another purpose in it._

**_Fun._ **

_Despite himself, as much as he begged himself not to like Rabbit, he enjoyed the boy’s company, and when he abandoned him for the night, Laurance was filled with a sense of urgency to drag him back, if only to feel that strange high, that euphoria once again._

_It was peculiar._

_But he had to admit, he kind of enjoyed it._

_He liked that unique rush, knowing that he was the only one that Rabbit trusted. Spent the most time with. He was special._

_But only when they were alone. No eyes were on the teenagers there._

_Freedom, even temporary, was new and exciting, and it filled Laurance with more contentment that he had ever known before._

_But on the streets, Rabbit had his reputation to maintain. Of course he did, Laurance thought bitterly. Why had he expected differently?_

_He cursed himself by day. Revived his quiet hopes by night._

_“What do you want, Laurance?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_He had never known what he wanted, not really._

_Under a hot Summer sun that he only pretended to adore, he braced himself against the insults hurled at him. He lifted his chin. Grinned, as if the hurtful words gave him pleasure and ammunition. They stung. But he did as he was taught._

_“I saw you two,” Jodie said, jabbing his finger in Laurance's direction, then straight at Rabbit. “At the beach. Like a pair of fucking lovers of something.”_

_Rabbit spared Laurance the struggle of finding a response. “I was just putting him in his place.”_

_“Didn’t look like it.”_

_“Well, I was_ **_trying_ ** _to spare the kid’s feelings, but he’s just so…”_

**_So…?_ **

_For a moment, Rabbit scanned the small crowd that had gathered around them to watch, as if evaluating his next words. Debating whether to sacrifice Laurance for his own sake - and, with his broad smile and open arms, Laurance knew what he had chosen._

_“Clingy,” spat Rabbit, when no one prompted him to continue. “Annoying. Irritating. Pick a synonym. He doesn’t leave me alone. How would you feel if this scrawny little thing followed you around everywhere?”_

_Scattered laughter erupted, somewhat nervously, as if sensing Laurance’s confidence waning with every passing second that he stood, hands clutching at each other, trying to breathe away the truth._

_“What the Hell does he think_ **_you_ ** _are, then, some kind of God?”_

_“I suppose so.”_

_“Hey, no, that’s not it at all,” Laurance protested, leaning forward eagerly. Begging Rabbit to tell the truth - for once, just this once._

**_Please._ **

**_Help me!_ **

_“You should’ve kicked his ass,” Jodie hissed._

_“Hey, it’s not my fault the kid has some pathetic crush on me!”_

_In that brief silence, it felt as if the world had shattered around him, looking at every single person through fractured glass. He didn’t recognise a single one of them. Strangers, every face distorted. All of them muttering, rippling laughter, soft crows of delight._

_And like a cornered animal, a coward, Laurance stood there and took it._

_He couldn’t even protest. That would mean lying, and the boys had crushed that kind of skill out of him._

_“I-I-”_

_“What, so you_ **_don’t_ ** _actually like the little bastard? Shocker…”_

_“No? I’d rather choke to death than like_ **_him._ ** _I doubt anyone ever will.”_

_Through his burning shame and humiliation, Laurance had the sense to be utterly shocked by that movement of disgust, that curled lip, the angry gleam of his eye. As if repulsed by him._

_Jodie was surprised. His laughter was shocked, somewhat delighted with this new street gossip, enjoying Laurance, cowering from them, from the truth. He had expected that of Jodie - Jodie, who had thrown stones and laughed when they landed._

_Rabbit had not touched any stones._

_But it was his quiet, cool laughter that hurt the most._

  
  
  


Garroth looked at him in silent disgust, as if to say, _who would ever find_ **_you_ ** _attractive?_

It was clear that they were both only pretending. That was all Laurance had ever done - and all that those who surrounded him had always punished him with. 

“No, no,” said Garroth, waving his hands. “No, my humblest apologies, your majesty,” Garroth said sarcastically, sinking into a bow. “I could never call someone as _wonderful_ as _you_ mean names.” Laurance wasn’t listening, just staring at him on his knees, shirtless, hair unkempt. It was…

_Peculiar? Fun?_

_Exciting?_

Familiar.

He swallowed. 

“Go to Hell,” he spat, and meant it with every spare space of his hollowed heart. 

He couldn’t mistake Garroth’s face falling as if genuinely… injured? _No_. Not real.

Everything they pretended to be was for Malachi. That was fine, he thought darkly, turning away. He would keep on pretending. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dante was certain that they were going to kill each other before he got out of the cell, and that would be _most_ unfortunate for him. Laurance crossed to one side of the cell, head against the wall, hands curled into fists. 

Garroth stood there, looking helpless for a moment. He seemed startled, uncertain - something about Laurance was able to effortlessly shake him, no matter the circumstances. Remembering how they had fallen asleep last night, Dante struggled to trace the path of their relationship. They hated each other as quickly as they tolerated each other.

As the first flickers of dawn crept down from the stairs, a loud crashing erupted from the top of the stairs. Human yells echoed from the stairwell until Aphmau, human and in her underwear once again, sat at the bottom step, sheepishly blinking at them. “Hi.” 

“Hi!? You fall down the stairs and you say _hi?”_ Dante stared at her incredulously. She sure knew how to enter in style, to say the least. 

“Sounds like Aphmau, alright,” Garroth said, shaking himself out of his trance.

Her dark skin was damp with sweat, curly hair wet with clumps of snow. In her hand, she clutched a long staff. Lucinda ran to the bars of her cell, eyes gleaming. “You got it!” 

“Of course I did!” She glanced at the staff, as if making sure it was still there. “Oh, wow, I _did.”_

“What happened? Did you get into trouble?” Garroth listened for background noises of destruction, but they heard nothing. 

“No, no, I’m just…”

“Did they hurt you? Were you followed?” 

“ _Irene,_ Garroth, I fell down the stairs! I’m _fine!”_

He flushed slightly. “Ah. Apologies.”

She rushed to unlock their cells. Lucinda’s first, meeting the other girl’s gaze with a nod, a mutual acceptance of each other. If Aphmau hadn’t liked Lucinda upon first meeting her, she certainly did now - admired her, even. She gave Lucinda the staff, allowing her to unlock their cell - Dante gratefully slid out into the hallway. 

“Garroth? Dante? Could you please help with Logan?” 

The pair of them rushed to her, Garroth seeming grateful to have his hands busy. As they hoisted Logan between them, the man mumbled incoherent words. 

“Hm?” Dante said.

“I… can walk… on my…. mmf…” 

“You clearly can’t.” Logan was putting all of his weight on the pair of them.

“Donna?” 

“Do I _look_ like Donna to you?” Garroth said.

“I’m gonna refrain from answering that,” Dante said, laughing easily. All in one triumphant swoop, his good mood had been restored. Aphmau was safe - and he was free. Even Garroth, despite his awkwardness, seemed somewhat content. Although somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dante had a feeling he was thinking about Laurance. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurance slip out of the cell and catch Aphmau’s hand. Without even speaking, they hugged, his hands gripping her back as if afraid that she would let him fall. Dante was somewhat surprised by their relationship - he hadn’t realised that they were so close. 

“They are,” Garroth whispered quietly, as if admitting defeat, reading the current of Dante’s thoughts. His face must have said it all.

_Defeat?_

Dante almost could have guessed that Garroth was jealous, had the guard not suddenly cleared his throat and deliberately turned away to hide whatever his face could give away.

Logan groaned in pain, pulling Dante out of his thoughts. Lucinda danced through the hallway, beckoning them with Malachi bounding after her. As Laurance pulled away from Aphmau, her eyes bright with concern for him, Malachi hugged his legs. 

“Come on,” Lucinda hissed, dancing on her toes hastily. “Let’s go, before we get put right back into those cells.”

“Yeah,” said Dante, nudging Garroth into action. “I’d like to avoid that, if possible.” 

“We need to get our stuff from the chests first.” 

_“Finally.”_

“I missed clothes,” Aphmau said wistfully.

Garroth was distracted; he kept glancing to the side, trying to catch Laurance’s eye. As if searching for something, begging to be noticed. Dante could almost hear the words. 

_Look at me._

Laurance kept his head turned firmly away, refusing to even glance in the direction of the truth.


	24. episode twenty four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update today! Song for this chapter is Therefore I Am by Billie Eilish !!

  
  
  


Garroth was still waiting for the howls of alarm as they ran out into the dawn, hauling their things into the foliage to hide. Nothing came. The skies were calm, quiet. He didn’t have the time of patience to fully put on his armour - and he had Logan to help, anyway, so he regretfully shoved his uniform into a bag, threw on a shirt, and held Logan upright with Dante’s help. 

He was expecting something to go wrong. Somehow, in some way, they would be found.

But as the sun now rose before them, bathing the valley in a gentle glow as they jogged through the mud, their boots slipping on the melting snow. It was quiet save for their breathing, and for the first time, Garroth allowed himself to admit that they were safe.

His eyes wandered towards Malachi’s castle, a dim shape in the distance, and steered himself in that direction. His time at the castle had been brief and filled with dangerous memories - his fight with Laurance, trapped with him in a wardrobe, but he longed for shelter and places to hide and cower. Safety. He wasn’t used to the wild, and surviving within it. 

“No,” Dante said, noticing his gaze and jerking his head. “I can’t imagine what supplies could help Logan in that place.”

Dante seemed tired but sturdy, as if used to taking care of himself in the unfamiliar crevices and cracks of the world untouched by Lords. He straightened slightly, steering Logan away from warmth and shelter and comfort, even temporary. 

“He’s right,” Lucinda said, wrapping a violet cloak around herself. “Follow me to my home - I have what Logan needs.” 

“You have medicine? You’re trained to heal?” Dante lifted his chin.

“Mhm.” 

“Are you a medicinal witch?” 

“Are  _ you?”  _

Dante blinked, his confidence quenched by Lucinda’s bold, prying eyes. “Er…” 

“That’s what I thought,” Lucinda said. Bigglesworth perched on her shoulder, looking far more regal than he had when Aphmau had first brought him back to the castle, feathers smoothed. His beak nipped Lucinda’s cheek scoldingly. 

After a moment of hesitation, Bigglesworth launched into the grey sky, injured leg tucked awkwardly into his body, wings catching the wind, angling to the cloud of a thick pine forest in the distance. Lucinda marched after him. 

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Garroth called, watching Lucinda walk under the shadow of her bird, feathers whispering of distant, bitter winds.

“Of course,” she said. 

Laurance was quiet. In fact, Garroth reflected, he was probably the most at home in the cold and the wild, the unfamiliar terrain. He lifted his chin to the wind, the sun hitting his cheek, open to the sky. Garroth wondered what it would be like to be free - really and wholly free. 

That night, alone in the snow… 

That was what Laurance confessed to have wanted for all of his life. 

Freedom.

_ “I... I had no interest in being a guard. I wanted to explore. One of those travelers, adventures - a free man. No responsibilities. No troubles. Just sea, sky and wind.” _

That was what he had said. Garroth couldn’t understand it at the time - perhaps because he had been so tired, and he had woken up the next morning hugging him, but it hadn’t made sense.

But looking at him now, it seemed as if he was born to chase the sky and breathe the wild.

Garroth, clearly, was not. 

“Shut your mouth,” Dante hissed. “You’re staring like a lunatic.” 

Garroth hastily pursed his lips. “I… am not.”

“Yes, you  _ are.  _ At Laurance.”

His eyes were suggestive, although he guessed that Dante was trying to cover the fact that he had been rattled by their experiences, both in the jail and out of it. “ _ No.  _ I am not.” 

“My eyes are up here, freckles,” Laurance sneered, spreading his arms mockingly. Garroth cursed himself for not being discreet. He  _ had  _ been watching Laurance, more than he wanted to admit.

Logically, sensibly, he was watching him, protecting the group. Making sure that nothing went wrong. That was what he would claim.

He refused to accept anything else. Even if he had been staring, thinking of anything but that. 

“I’m not staring,” he grunted. 

“You so were.” 

“Did I ask you, Dante?” 

Dante bobbed his head awkwardly, blue hair bouncing. “Oh- yes, sorry, sir.” 

Laurance barked out a cruel laugh.  _ “Sir?  _ That’s rich. I wouldn’t want to be taking orders from you, Garroth.” 

“You keep calling yourself a guard, and you  _ will.”  _

“He  _ is  _ your Head Guard, Laurance,” Aphmau called jokingly, walking beside Lucinda as if she was her apprentice. “You’d better do what you’re told!” 

“I don’t do what I’m told,” Laurance said, winking lazily. “Always full of surprises, remember?”

“Ugh,” Garroth said, trying to keep Logan from falling into the snow. “Don’t remind me.” 

He wanted Laurance to stay on a set path, never step away. He wanted him to settle on his fate and stick to it, rather than flitting about, toying and testing his emotions. He wanted to understand Laurance. And oh, things would have been better, he thought, if Laurance had simply tried to kill Aphmau. Things would be easy.

But the prick had to be full of surprises, didn’t he?

He wasn’t just a Shadow Knight, he realized, and that was what made it difficult. Laurance was a lover, a flirt, a casanova to some, an enemy and rival to others. A poet. A stranger.

The problem was, Garroth could no longer understand what Laurance was to him. 

It was frightening. 

Dante nudged him. “You’re staring again - uh, sir.”

He closed his mouth. Laurance had his back to both of them, guiding Malachi through the patches of water and mud, but Garroth had the sense that Laurance was perfectly aware. And, worse, was finding entertainment in Garroth’s struggle. 

“I am not,” he bit out, as Laurance chuckled under his breath.

“Hey, Dante, take it easy. It’s not his fault that he can’t take his eyes off me.”

“I am not-” 

“I mean, I’m hardly surprised. I’m just… too irresistible for him.”

Lucinda led them into the forest. She seemed unsure for a moment in the shadow of the large pine trees, but as Bigglesworth swooped in and out of the patches of sunlight, she found a direction. “This way.”

Malachi skipped just ahead of Laurance, who had found a tangent to make him feel confident and was sticking to it. “I mean, there’s just so much to love about me.”

Garroth hesitated, briefly considering Malachi’s feelings. He would never want to destroy their perception of family, especially after searching for it for so long. 

“Mhm. Absolutely,” he agreed, meeting Dante’s eyes laughingly. 

Laurance bounded beneath the trees, skipping around Garroth, eyes gleaming. “Oh, come on, Garroth, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!” 

“Eh?” 

He had a feeling his cheeks were red against his will.  _ Damn it.  _

“Tell me what you  _ love  _ about me.” 

“I…” He swallowed a number of foul curses and grinned awkwardly, as Malachi swung around to watch them. 

_ This is going to be the death of me.  _

“You first,” he blustered, trying to wave away Dante’s muffled laughter without Laurance seeing. 

“You are  _ no  _ help, you know that?” 

“No, Garroth, I’m curious, actually,” Dante replied.

“You first,” he repeated, fixing Laurance with a glare that promised death. Lucinda and Aphmau were giggling. 

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a  _ little  _ bit funny,” Aphmau mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. Lucinda led them to the left, their feet finding a cobblestone path twining through the pines, and let out a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t you know where you’re going?”

“It’s easy to get lost here,” Lucinda said awkwardly. 

“Well?” Garroth said, kicking Laurance. “You have to tell me what you  _ love  _ about me!”

_ On second thought, I’m not interested.  _

But, like Dante, he was slightly curious. He bit away that shred of him that wanted to make Laurance stumble, see his charisma flicker even slightly. He wanted to surprise him.

No. That’d be  _ stupid.  _

Garroth focused on navigating Logan through the foliage and undergrowth, pointedly looking at Dante, daring him to say a single word. Dante, he had discovered, was perceptive, and irritatingly observant. He had to know. Right? 

_ Not a word.  _

Fear gripped him in a cold claw. 

Laurance took a heartbeat to consider, then said slowly, “I suppose you won’t believe me if I talk about the freckles.”

“You’ve done that before,” he muttered. “Constellations. Stars. I’ve heard it all.”

“What about your eyes?” 

“Basic,” he grumbled, wondering what Laurance would ever have to say about his eyes. 

“I’ll talk about anything you want me to. Take your pick. I like all of you.” 

_ Like Hell you do. _

Dante had one hand over his mouth, stifling his laughter. Malachi was watching with vivid curiosity, eyes alert. Garroth visibly hesitated, knowing that with every second he glared at Laurance, every heartbeat spent hating him and cursing him, Malachi would lose that new, powerful sense of family. 

Of a father. Of two.

He couldn’t even begin to claim to understand what Malachi had been through. 

He had no intention of hurting him even more. 

He would not give Laurance the satisfaction of watching him turn into Garte - it would betray everything he had spent his life fighting for, defending, protecting his home from. The influence of O’Khasis had begun, but he wouldn’t allow it to reach his heart, nor the party he was travelling with. None of them deserved it - Hell, even Laurance wouldn’t deserve that kind of fate. 

So he lifted his chin and met Laurance’s gaze, said, “ _ this  _ is my favourite thing about you,” and tilted Laurance’s chin with his hand. 

The man froze, silent panic keeping him stood there as Garroth gripped him. 

_ That’s what I thought.  _

His breath hit what remained of his bruise, his cheek still tinged green and yellow. Healing, but still reminding Laurance of what they had both suffered in the castle. 

“Yeah. That’s right. The way your heart still races when I come near you. The way your eyes widen ever… so… slightly… when we’re this close. It’s almost cute.” 

_ Almost. _

“I’m not scared of you,” Laurance blustered. 

“Oh, I  _ know  _ that’s not fear.” He cupped Laurance’s cheek, thumb brushing the curve of the bruise. Openly taunting him, challenging him to protest, enjoying the quiet panic that had settled over them - and even his own heart was thudding in anticipation, adrenaline prodding him onwards. “The way you claim to be so confident, so cocky… so arrogant… but you still get so flustered when I’m around. I love that.” 

His eyes flickered. He did not struggle. “I don’t get  _ flustered.”  _

“You seem to be  _ quite  _ flustered, actually.” 

For a moment, Laurance seemed stricken by fear - not of Garroth threatening him, no, but of… something else. The quiet panic in his eyes pulled Garroth out of his trance and he shoved away, gritting his teeth. Laurance’s hand brushed his cheek where Garroth had touched distantly.

“Well- I-” 

Dante coughed into his hand, breaking the confused silence. “Can we get moving, or are you too busy kissing to actually help Logan?” 

“I’m not-” 

“I wouldn’t-” 

Garroth stepped away to help Dante with Logan, awkwardly ducking his head. 

He was not Laurance. He was not impulsive, free, acting without thought of consequence. So why was he acting so…  _ stupid?  _

Laurance could taunt that kind of confidence out of him. Realising that his hands had willingly tip-toed across his rival’s face made him flush, gritting his teeth. But, he reminded himself, he had fulfilled his intent - he had shaken Laurance, made him hesitate, unsure of himself. That made the teasing and taunting worth it, didn’t it? 

As the trees thinned and the path widened under their feet, Bigglesworth fluttered up to perch on a chimney attached to…

Garroth blinked.

It was perhaps one of the most precarious houses he had ever seen, tilted on its side, red brick and wooden slabs twisting up more than three stories, almost as eccentric as Lucinda herself. It was a miracle it was not falling in the slightest. 

“Is that safe?” Dante said, afraid to be questioning Lucinda again. 

“Are you going to judge me for everything I do?” she said coolly. “ _Trust_ _me_ , mister Dante.” She held out her arm and let Bigglesworth perch on her shoulder, then beckoned them inside. 

Garroth swore as he reached the staircase. It didn’t seem to end, an infinite spiral. Lucinda laughed, pausing to breathe the thick, dusty air, stretching. The scent of spices and herbs draped over them. Dante wheezed slightly. 

“You good?” 

“Yup,” he managed. 

At Lucinda’s beckoning, they began to drag Logan up the stairs, huffing at the effort. “Top floor,” she said, grinning. She darted away and Aphmau eagerly flitted after her, leaving the three men looking faintly irritated.

“He’d better be okay,” Garroth grumbled. “If I found out we dragged him up these stairs for nothing, I’ll be pissed.” 

* * *

Once Logan had been laid on a spare bed in the highest room of the entire building, and it had been verified that no one else was injured, they gathered around Lucinda’s work table that had been strewn with various jars and bottles, and herbs. There were explosion stains on the desk. She hastily covered them with a towel, sweeping aside the mess. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been home,” she said with a shrug. “No time to clean up when you’re in a jail cell. Oh, and  _ don’t  _ touch anything.” 

Laurance, whose hand had been creeping in the direction of a gleaming emerald potion, froze and smiled awkwardly. “Oops.” 

  
He winced, reluctant to be scolded by Lucinda, but her attention wasn’t fully on him anyway. Her eyes were distant as her fingers tapped her desk, humming to herself. 

“Wait for a moment,” she said, and dove into clearing her desk. When she leaned back, frustrated, she began hunting through her shelves, pulling aside books and scrolls.

“What are you…?” 

“Shush!”

Aphmau was watching in wonder, enchanted by the house and the mysterious magicks lurking within it. Laurance, in return, was watching her. 

Missing his friend. 

He had realised that his sense of pride and accomplishment as of late had been stolen entirely from Garroth, and his ability to get on his nerves. But what he was craving, suddenly, was friendship, and trust

Remembering Rabbit had reminded him of that, and where his priorities truly lay. 

But Garroth kept on tearing him away, luring him back into that cycle, and he found that he didn’t…  _ want  _ to stop. It was almost fun, enjoyable. 

Even their quieter moments in the snow, not yelling, but talking, felt  _ different _ . 

Garroth had taken his face in his hands and left him helpless, reeling. 

That could never happen again. Laurance straightened slightly, hands gripping the edge of his jacket. 

“That’s mine,” Garroth said suddenly, blinking. “That’s my jacket. That’s the one I gave you.” 

“Oh, this?” He wrapped it tighter around his chest. “No, no… I’m certain this is mine.” 

“ _ No?  _ It  _ isn’t?  _ I was kind enough to give that to you when you were freezing your ass off in the snow.”

“ _ You _ dragged me into the snow, if I remember correctly.” 

“It… was for good reason.” Their eyes both flickered to Dante, then looked down, not daring to admit that they had ever confessed secrets to each other. That was something Laurance liked to erase out of his mind. 

“Give me back my jacket.” 

Laurance’s hands fiddled with the buttons. “No.”

_ “No?”  _

“I mean, if you want to rip it off me. But you'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Garroth blushed deeply, letting out a noise of frustration. “ _No. No._ Whatever. Keep it. You need a better fashion sense, anyway.” 

“That’s too far, man.” He pretended to wipe away a tear from his cheek. 

His skin had tingled where Garroth had touched, prickling with quiet alarm. But it wasn’t  _ bad.  _ That was the scariest thing.

“Damn it!” Lucinda snapped, retreating from her shelves. “I don’t have any left.”

“Any what?”

Malachi tugged at Laurance’s hand, and he kindly allowed them to crawl onto his shoulders to watch the others. Garroth’s eyes flickered, then glanced to the floor again. 

_ Fine. Be that way. _

Lucinda slammed her hand on the table. “Logan needs an Eldritch eye. And I  _ don’t have any.”  _

“Hey, it’s okay,” Aphmau soothed. “We’ll find one.” 

“Logan is fading. Fast.” 

“Then we have to hurry,” Dante said firmly. “I didn’t come all this way to save him just for him to die in your house. It was my fault he got left behind, so I’ll go get an… an  _ eye.”  _

“It wasn’t your fault, Dante,” Aphmau said hastily. “I’ll go.”

“No.” To his surprise, it was Garroth who beat him to his protest, stepping forward. “I’m your Guard. I serve you, milady. I’ll fetch the eye.”

Dante opened his mouth to protest, then shut it, apparently nervous to question Garroth’s authority.  _ Perhaps his authority  _ **_needs_ ** _ to be questioned. _

“As much as I’d love to see you get your hands dirty,” Lucinda said, eyeing Aphmau, “I’d rather a guard go on the hunt. You’ll have trouble, but you’re better equipped to defend yourself from… well, the crabs.” 

“Crabs?” Laurance echoed.

“Mhm. You can get the eye from an Eldritch Queen - the crabs are huge. They live in large tunnels and caves on the cliff sides. Although I’d rather you  _ not  _ go alone.”

She paused to consider the three men. 

_ Not me, not me, not me. _

“Him.” She pointed at Laurance.

Dante looked significantly crestfallen, glancing at Aphmau apologetically. 

“Don’t look so sad,” Lucinda said. “I need your help, and Aphmau’s here, to ease Logan’s pain while we wait for these two to get back.” 

_ More alone time with Garroth.  _ **_Brilliant_ ** _.  _

“Go,” said Aphmau. He didn’t have time to protest, or the energy to deny Lucinda’s request - Logan was depending on him. Even after the years, he couldn’t comprehend responsibility. Joh’s death had shaken him. Being a guard was practically worthless when he had allowed those around him to die - and if Garroth couldn’t trust a Shadow Knight, then no one could. Now Logan’s heartbeat faded, his fate dangling from Laurance’s fingers. Depending wholly on him.

Terror gripped him.

He bounded down the stairs, Garroth trailing him. 

“Shit, there’s something-” But if Lucinda had something important to say, it couldn’t matter, because her voice faded as they squeezed through the door and broke into a run. 

_ Go, go, go. _

He did not dare to slow. Not again. He would not watch anyone else die - not by his hand. 

Garroth kept pace with him as they weaved between the pine trees, eyes flitting nervously, trying to shift through the unfamiliar shadows. 

“Where did she say these things were!?” he panted. 

“Cliffside tunnels.”

Laurance hadn’t seen any cliffs on their way to Lucinda’s home, but then again, he had been somewhat distracted. Not that he’d tell Garroth that. 

“Let’s try this way first,” he said, swerving to the left.

Garroth huffed his disapproval, but followed nonetheless. 

Laurance didn’t want to dwell on it. Garroth’s face, his fingers. He had seen, felt enough - enough to make his heart thud. That panic he felt when Garroth came close against his will… it was too familiar. When Rabbit had come close to him, he had felt that, too, the sensation of panic and exhilaration. But that, he supposed, what was made rejection hurt even more, his inability to fight off those feelings. 

He had no intention of hurting any more. 

Determined to burn off his sudden doubt, he broke into a sprint. Garroth swore, and burst after him, although it was clear that he would rather be anywhere but with him. Doing anything else. 

_ Focus, Laurance. Logan is dying, and you’re still caught up about Garroth.  _

“Laurance - slow - down-”

_ Get him out of your head.  _

He sped up. Logan needed his help.

_ Garroth means nothing.  _

He barely saw the gorge - and only a flash of the river churning at the bottom.

He planted his toes into the ground and skidded, legs grazing into the mud. He rolled as the ground slipped away underneath him, fingers scrabbling at the grass. Pebbles and dirt fell away where he hung, desperately trying to cling to the edge. 

_ Don’t look down. For Irene’s sake, don’t look… down…  _

He glanced beneath him, his legs dangling over the crumbling, jagged cliff and thin, angry river curled at the bottom, and swore frantically. 

Garroth stumbled to a halt, struck with a choice. 

There was a brief flicker of hesitation that passed between the pair of them. A moment in which he thought that Garroth would leave him. Abandon him to his death. 

Let him die? Or pull him back?

Would it be so bad to die? The thought only clouded his mind for a moment, enough for Garroth to blink and crawl to him.

But, he reflected in that tiny moment, he didn’t  _ want  _ to die. He hadn’t seen everything. He hadn’t explored the world. He hadn’t seen every angle of the night sky, hadn’t traveled under every colour of the sky. Hell, he hadn’t even had his first kiss. 

He deserved that much, didn’t he?

He would not die - not by Garroth’s hands, and certainly not by falling down a gorge. He would die honourably, or not at all. He slipped slightly. 

_ No-  _

_ Please-  _

“Garroth-” 

Garroth lunged forward to grab his wrists and began to pull. 

There was a terrible moment when Garroth struggled, and his confidence wavered slightly, the wind hitting his bare stomach as he dangled, clawing desperately at Garroth.

“Don’t let go,” Garroth commanded. “Don’t fucking let go of me.”

And Laurance did not. 

Garroth managed to haul him back onto the grass and scrambled back, dragging him as far away from the edge as possible. He sat in Garroth’s arms, clinging to the man’s back, breathing into his shoulder. Panting heavily, sifting through the idea that that could have been his downfall. 

If Garroth had pretended not to see him… if Laurance had willingly let go… 

He shuddered slightly. He realised that Garroth’s hands were still clinging to his wrists and jumped. 

“You- you were worried about me.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I…” His eyes flickered. “For  _ Aphmau _ .”

He struggled to believe that. Surely he wouldn’t fight so hard to save him just for Aphmau - surely there was a shred of Garroth that would be sad to see him die? 

Garroth let go of him suddenly, letting him slump to the ground. Laurance rolled over to inspect his injuries - scraped knees, legs grazed with a slight amount of blood, hands still raw and red from clinging to Garroth, but save for that he was fine. In fact, he felt giddy, but that could have been from Garroth or from the danger.

He giggled under his breath. 

“No, no, you  _ definitely  _ care if I live or die.” 

“Shut up.” Garroth peered over the gorge cautiously, then actually began to laugh. 

“I can’t  _ possibly  _ find the humour in this situation.”

“You did it.” His eyes glowed. “You almost fell into the crab tunnels!"

He crawled to the edge, fingers clutching at the grass. He had no intention of falling in again. Right below him, a hole was carved into the edge of the cliff, too large to be by pure chance. No, this was a tunnel carved specifically for a large creature, a beast. 

Exactly what they had come for. 

  
“Hurry,” said Garroth sternly. “And if you fall again, this time I’ll let go.”

“Nice to feel appreciated.”

He grinned, and the spark of it seemed to light Garroth’s eyes on fire. 


	25. episode twenty five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Pools by Glass Animals !! <3 Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

  
  
  


As they reached a place to crawl down the shallow end of the gorge, Laurance turned to Garroth. He hadn’t realised how much living had meant to him until Garroth had visibly hesitated, then pulled him back.

And held him there, Laurance’s hands gripping his back, frightened to step away. Perhaps he would have dwelled more on that, if he hadn’t been so tired.

“You owe me,” Garroth said quietly.

Laurance didn’t want to owe Garroth anything, and certainly not a life debt. 

They crept into the cave, squinting through the unshaken black. At first, he thought that the strange whispers from the darkness were gusts of wind - but no, that was the clicking of claws and mandibles echoing down the tunnel, the shifting of heavy bodies and trickling water. 

Without meaning to, Laurance gripped Garroth’s wrist desperately as the slimmer of sunlight winked away behind them. 

“Laurance?” 

“Eh?” 

He realised whose hand his fingers had ventured towards and stepped away, hugging himself. “Oops.” 

“ _ Oops?”  _

If Garroth was scowling, he couldn’t see it. He could barely see his own feet. 

The clicking paused.

_ Run, run, run.  _

He froze, debating it. Logan’s fate was tied to him. His life, fading, waiting with every heartbeat for Laurance to return with what he needed. That kind of responsibility wasn’t something he could run from. He had spent his life hiding from anything that depended on him. 

Not Aphmau, though. 

Not today.

  
They needed him. Hell, even Garroth needed him at least a  _ little  _ bit. Perhaps not for a kind reason, but it was a reason all the same. 

“You’re scared of the dark? Of all of the things?  _ Really?  _ Could you  _ be  _ any more inconvenient?” 

The clicking returned, insistent, followed by the shuffling of large bodies. 

Laurance’s foot hit something and he jumped into Garroth, who instantly shoved him away. “Can you at least  _ try  _ to watch where you’re going?” 

“Sorry, sorry!” 

“Useless,” Garroth muttered. “Completely and utterly useless.” 

He bent down and picked up the stick that Laurance had stumbled over, then tossed it to him. 

Laurance swallowed. After a moment, fumbling his hands in his pockets and bending over his new find, a tiny spark erupted from the dark. He held up a makeshift torch, casting Garroth’s shock in firelight. 

“How… how did you do that?” 

“Magick.” He waved his fingers ominously. 

“You don’t have any magick. It must have been a… a…”

_ Shadow Knight thing? _

_ Go on.  _

_ Say it.  _

Garroth hesitated, then narrowed his eyes. “You’re a filthy cheat. You have a flint and steel.”

“That… may be the case.” 

“Ugh! That’s a  _ thief’s  _ trick.” 

“That’s why  _ you  _ didn’t think of it.” He winked, and stepped forward. He was instantly more comfortable in the dim glow of the torch as he navigated his way down the tunnel, Garroth behind him. He could see where he was placing his feet and, even better, could see where the danger would approach him from. No surprises would lurk in the dark but  _ him _ . 

Laurance held the makeshift torch out in front of him, sweeping his gaze around the tunnel. It spiralled down into a chasm. An eye flashed in the darkness, belonging to a giant, rumbling body. The glow of a massive pincer moved into the light. As they watched, it scuttled away. 

_ That thing was bigger than me! _

His heart began to pound. To his surprise it was Garroth, shifting on both feet anxiously, who charged onwards. Being reckless. Laurance trailed behind him. 

_ For Logan _ , Laurance realised. Garroth changed when those he loved were at stake. 

“I’ll go first,” he said. “I have the fire.” 

He held his sword in his right hand and the fire in his left, hair rippling with a slight breeze. Garroth followed behind him, hand on his shoulder to avoid being separated. Usually, he’d protest, but in the tunnels, he didn’t mind the silent reassurance that he wasn’t alone. 

Still… 

He realised that Garroth had been right.

He was not bold, he was not powerful. 

He was a weak boy who hadn’t even had his first kiss - pathetic, in his eyes, a frightened thief who could use a flint and steel and nothing else useful. His breathing faltered, fighting to keep his composure. They crept deeper, with Laurance guiding the way, Garroth with his sword braced for attack.

Protecting him, he realised with a jolt of surprise. 

They stumbled into a wide cavern, an open space, where a small stream of water trickled from crumbling holes in the walls. The walls… 

At first, he thought he had to be hallucinating. The walls were  _ moving  _ like an ant’s nest, dozens of shifting, rippling black shapes swarming over them. The floor seemed to churn underneath him, despite there being nothing under his feet. He stumbled, and Garroth righted him. 

“Put that out,” Garroth hissed. “Put it out  _ right now.”  _

In a single, trembling breath, the firelight winked away. 

And all across the walls, dozens of yellow eyes, dangling over them, like round lamps, fixed on them. They were already moving. 

_ Too late,  _ Laurance thought. 

Perhaps the fire hadn’t been his best idea, after all. 

Garroth swore as the first crab scrambled from the wall. In the dark, it was still blind, but it had seen them before the lights vanished. It knew they were pressed against the wall, somewhere, cowering. 

But  _ they  _ couldn’t see, either. Could only hear rapid clicking edging closer, and closer, hunting them. Calculating their position. 

A cold shell brushed against Laurance’s leg and he kicked out blindly. 

  
He felt the wind from the blow of a jagged pincer past his face. The crab crashed across the cave and he heard it struggling to right itself. 

_ Too close.  _

The damage had been done, though - the other crabs had heard, and as one they moved in a wave towards them. The gleam of their yellow eyes together like one entity - ironically, a relief - lit up the cavern. Laurance could vaguely see the shapes launch themselves at him. He tossed away the stick and replaced it with his sword. 

And despite the terror that he could die, that it was already too late to save Logan, he found himself grinning. Laughing as he kicked a crab onto its back and stabbed it’s belly. Enjoying the thrill of battle, the adrenaline, the fight. Another swing, another kick. 

A body pinned him against the wall - he saw gleaming eyes hovering close to him, pincers struggling to stab him.

Garroth was solemn as he impaled a crab launching itself at him.

These beasts were only up to Laurance’s hips, although their claws were much larger; and as he killed them, panting, he realised that the queen was not among them. 

“We’re wasting time,” he choked out to Garroth, who was already trying to wade through the crabs. 

“Come on,” Garroth commanded. Laurance kicked aside another crab, gritting his teeth. 

_ This is the last time I’m obedient to Garroth Ro’meave.  _

They squeezed into a smaller tunnel and instantly felt the walls shake as pincers slammed into the opening, trying to blindly stab their way in. With a kick, he sent the cave opening shuddering and spilling with crumbling rock and pebbles, blocking the way. As the eyes faded behind them, hidden by rock, it was dark again. 

His breathing shuddered, fragile. 

“Garroth?” 

“Hurry,” the guard urged, slamming the hilt of his sword against the tunnel walls to try and find his way out. He moved, feeling his way along the wall. Laurance stumbled behind him, watching the gleaming of his blade bob in the distance.

Garroth, wait-” 

He called out, and was met with silence. 

_ He left me.  _

_ No-  _

_ You’re fine. _

One step, and his body would be crumpled at the bottom of a chasm, a pit. Killed by a crab. Or killed by his own stupidity. His self doubt would be his downfall, his fatal flaw. It would cripple him. 

He crouched, hearing the scuttling of crabs on the other side of the wall that he had collapsed. His hands frantically tapped at the ground, trying to feel his way forward.

_ Come on… _

“Garroth!” 

After a moment, a hand clasped his own and gripped it tight, guiding him onwards. 

He heard rocks crumbling, and a sliver of light erupted through the gap. “I found it,” Garroth hissed, using his sword to shove through the hole. When Laurance didn’t move, Garroth tugged. 

_ “Get it together. _ Logan needs us.”

Not one, not the other. Both of them, together. 

Like a team. An alliance that Laurance hadn’t paused to consider being something that he … didn’t mind.

Garroth did not recoil from his touch. Or perhaps fear and adrenaline made him not care whose hand he held. Either way, Laurance clung to him as they crawled through the hole and stumbled into a large cavern, illuminated by sunlight flickering through a crack in the roof. 

It was quiet. 

“Garroth?” 

“Shhh…” 

Garroth held Laurance in one hand, his sword in the other, looking uncertain. 

“It’s a nest,” Garroth said, staring at the middle of the cavern, where the ground was sunken into a scorched hole. “But where’s the-”

_ Click. _

_ Click.  _

_ Click.  _

It came from behind them.

They didn’t have time to react as a body slammed into them, tearing them apart. Garroth hit the wall and crouched on his hands and knees, struggling for breath. Laurance writhed underneath a crab, easily triple his size. A pincer slammed into the edge of his jacket, barely missing his arm, pinning him to the ground. 

Gleaming above him was a round, glittering eye. 

The Queen, defending her nest.

Garroth had not gotten to his feet, frozen on the ground. Slowly, deliberately, the crab focused its vicious gaze on the weaker of the two. Laurance stood a chance to defend himself. 

Garroth did not.

The crab skittered towards Garroth and shoved him against the wall. Garroth let out a yell. 

The pincer did not miss his arm.

A trickle of blood bubbled to life. Then it welled, streaming out from underneath the giant claw that held him there, trapping him. Nowhere to run, no escape. The crab leaned in.

“Hey,  _ you bitch,  _ that’s  _ my  _ job!”

Laurance leaped, tackling the crab’s thick shell and clinging. He wasn’t heavy enough to do any damage, but the crab stumbled, and it was enough for Garroth to pull free with a cry. 

“Fuck!” Garroth held his arm with his other hand, trying to squeeze back the blood. “The fucker got me, it got me.”

“I noticed,” Laurance said dryly, blocking his body from the crab, who was darting to and fro, trying to find an opening. He stabbed the crab in its side, driving it away for a moment and quickly hauled off his - Garroth’s - jacket to toss it to him.

“I’m not using  _ my-”  _

“It’s  _ mine,  _ and shut-” 

The crab crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. 

_ Shit, shit- _

But as that eye loomed over him, Garroth shouted. He stood on the other side of the cavern, arm wrapped awkwardly with the jacket. Blood had dripped onto his side, and his body was coated in thick grey dust. His hair was loose and tangled, and with every heavy breath, he was wheezing. It was the worst that Laurance had seen him; yet, through his weary haze of fear, he was still attractive despite it all. 

_ How does he  _ **_do_ ** _ that?  _

If he closed his eyes, he could still feel Garroth’s hand in his, guiding him away. He would  _ prefer  _ that, rather than staring at a giant, ugly-ass crab trying to kill him and his… ally sounded appropriate.  _ Temporary  _ ally.

The crab’s attention was wholly on Garroth as it stepped away, trying to find an opportunity to dart to him. Garroth gritted his teeth, trying to clamp down on his pain, his weakness. But Laurance could tell he was struggling. He slid behind the crab, trying to corner it.

“If I survive this, freckles, we’re even.” 

The crab spun towards his voice and lunged, only to be stabbed in the side by Garroth and shoved aside. 

“Nope,” he said, clutching his arm, sword hanging by his side. “You still owe me.”

* * *

  
  


_ “What are you doing here!?”  _

_ Dante was against a wall, hands braced against the brick. He had been hiding - but, as he had discovered, he was clumsy and not the best at hiding. He was good at making himself small, though, and he shrank from Gene. _

_ He had always thought that Gene was his hero. He still was. He was still effortlessly cool, charismatic, his vibrant haircut and sharp eyes like jagged spurs of grey and violet in the sun. In the blackness of night, they were dark blue, and it was the first time that Dante had seen them utterly furious.  _

_ He had been angry before, and his patience with Dante trailing him like an affectionate puppy had been waning thin as of late, but he had never looked so violent. Dante tried to fight away his tears. _

**_Don’t cry. You’re no baby._ **

_ Gene never liked him crying, scolded him for it. And had dragged him away from curious eyes if he ever got upset in public. That kind of humiliation was not worthy of their family.  _

_ In the dark, Dante had felt as if he was intruding on a private, sacred moment. He had been spying on him many times before. But this time felt…  _ **_wrong._ **

_ He was not supposed to be here. _

_ He was poised to run, crouched behind a wall, peeking out into the alleyway.  _

_ Gene had taken Nessa’s face in his hands, foreheads pressed together.  _

_ “I don’t understand. Make me understand, Nes.”  _

_ “I…” _

_ “Why.”  _

_ Nessa was silent.  _

_ “Tell me why!” he had barked, in a voice belonging to a commander rather than a lover. Even Dante flinched slightly, and had to remind himself that Gene was not scolding him. _

_ But Nessa took a pace back. “Gene, I don’t think - I - you - I don’t think we’re on the same page.” _

_ “We are.” _

_ “I don’t think so.”  _

**_“We are.”_ **

_ “I’m not in love with you the way you are with me.”  _

_ The words were hurled into the emptiness, leaving a horrible, sinister silence in its wake. _

_ Gene’s eyes were watering.  _

_ The first time Dante had seen him even close to tears, even in private. It shook him, made him realise in a flash of unease: _

**_I gotta get out here._ **

_ Gene took a step back, as if to turn, and Dante froze.  _ **_Don’t see me, please…_ **

_ Gene held out his hand, fingers splayed to her face  _

_ A familiar gesture.  _

_ That power he had nurtured and harboured through his childhood, was something that Dante tried to ignore. Gene had never threatened him - at least, not that he could remember - but Dante had seen it happen and always kept his lips sealed, afraid to disappoint his brother. His eyes would gleam, as if quietly begging him not to say a word, and so he did not. Gene was defending him from trouble, mostly. That was how it started.  _

_ But it never seemed to end that way. _

_ “For you, Dante,” Gene had said when Dante had watched him use his power on the old, grizzly head guard.  _

_ “For you, Dante,” as their Lord forgot the man he had been about to promote and instead locked his eyes on a hero. Gene.  _

_ Not for Dante, but for himself.  _

_ But he couldn’t bear to imagine that his brother was a villain. Misunderstood, sure. But he wasn’t  _ **_evil._ ** _ He wouldn’t use his power to hurt, not really, just… secure the safety of his family. _

_ But Nessa was the love of his life.  _

_ His hands were pointed at her face, concentrating. Eyes gleaming, black and cold.  _

_ “You’ll love me yet,” he said, voice ragged, almost pleading with her to stay. Begging for her mercy. _

_ His hand closed into a fist. _

_ “No!”  _

_ Dante flew out from his hiding place, clinging to Gene, making his arm falter. “Dante!?”  _

_ Nessa was blinking in terror, her eyes round. “Gene, what…?”  _

_ Quick as a viper, Gene slammed Dante against the brick wall, hand closed around his neck. Hard enough to make him panic, clawing to get free, but not hard enough to steal away his breath.  _

_ “What are you doing here!?” Gene exploded, no sympathy in those eyes that Dante so greatly admired, as he wriggled, trying to get free.  _

_ “Gene-”  _

_ “What are you doing!? You fucking snitch!”  _

_ “I’m not-”  _

_ He spluttered, an awful panic stirring in his stomach as Gene lifted a hand. He even looked unhappy, as if he didn’t want to use his power on his own brother - but his eyes narrowed slightly.  _

_ Through his panic, he heard Nessa’s footsteps as she bolted. _

**_No-_ **

_ “No, don’t- Gene- I-”  _

_ “How else am I gonna shut you up, huh, Dante? Do you promise not to tell another soul? Do you promise to keep your little mouth shut?”  _

_ “I-”  _

_ From his determined silence, Gene had his answer.  _

_ “That’s what I thought.”  _

_ His gaze softened, seeing Dante’s terror.  _

_ “Shh, brother. Hush. It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”  _

**_I promise._ **

_ How many promises had Gene broken by now? How many lies had to be told before he was satisfied with the family he had?  _

**_Am I really that bad of a brother?_ **

**_Maybe I’m doing it all wrong._ **

**_I’m wrong, and he’s right._ **

_ That had to be it.  _

_ Gene lifted his hand. Dante writhed.  _

**_Don’t do it-_ **

**_Please!_ **

_ “Say goodbye to this night, brother.”  _

_ Shouts erupted down the street and Gene dropped him, his head bouncing against the wall. With a groan, he held his head between his knees, hugging himself, trying to blink away the stars dancing around his vision. Swearing, Gene bolted, leaving his brother curled in the alley.  _

**_Gene - please don’t - leave me-_ **

_ He held out a shaking hand after him, but Gene did not hesitate as he sprinted away. Did not look back to his brother. _

**_Please._ **

  
  


* * *

  
  


They had been gone for too long, Dante thought darkly. His eyes had already roamed over Lucinda’s magical inventory multiple times, counting the potions on the shelves, the spices on her desk, trying to distract himself from the constant fear that Laurance and Garroth wouldn’t make it back in time. 

Logan was no longer responding. His injuries were beyond what his eyes could see on the skin, although he  _ was  _ bruised and scratched, the causes for his fading life was beneath all of that. He didn’t understand magick. Didn’t trust it. Any power beyond his mortal grasp terrified him more than he wanted to admit - but if it saved Logan, then by all means, Lucinda could do what she had to do as a witch, and he wouldn’t stop her. 

They only needed the eye. 

He and Aphmau had contributed as Lucinda instructed them, restraining Logan and helping to make poultices and creams to numb him, soothe the pain , at least temporarily. 

“Usually, I’d have more supplies to work with,” she had said apologetically. “But… the wolves…”

“I know,” Aphmau said soothingly, although she was pacing the room nervously. 

“He has to be okay,” Dante finally said, breaking the silence. “I owe him that much.” 

He resumed his counting. Briefly, he thought of Gene erupted in his mind out of nowhere, and he bitterly shoved it away. Now wasn’t the time to reflect on past mistakes and foolishness. That had been Dante’s fault, but Logan’s death would not stain his hands. 

The door flew open. 

_ “Oh, Irene.” _

Before anyone could speak, Lucinda snatched a giant, glowing eye from Laurance’s hand and waved them away. “Get out. I need space.”

Before he went downstairs, Dante caught sight of the eye. Even separated from its owner, it was  _ moving!  _ Still scanning the room as if still alive. Watching Dante as if he was prey. He closed the door behind him.

He ran downstairs, but his spine still tingled with the feeling that he was being watched. 

Alone, Garroth and Laurance slumped against the wall - Garroth’s head drooped onto Laurance’s shoulder, and neither of them protested. Both men were covered in dust and blood, eyes hollow. Garroth was holding his arm with a hand, and after a moment Dante registered blood soaking the shirt and skin underneath the jacket he had wrapped around it. 

_ What the Hell happened out there!?  _

“You… er… you’ve looked better,” Dante offered, ignoring Laurance’s glare. 

Fondly, Aphmau slapped the pair of them - although lightly, to save them the pain. “What- did- you-  _ do!?”  _

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, awkwardly, Garroth said, “I got hurt.” 

“That’s an understatement. There’s a hole in his arm.” Laurance mustered the energy to grin.

_ “Laurance.” _

“What, it’s true!”

Aphmau wailed in horror, hands over her mouth. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. The idiot practically let a crab stab him on the wall.”

“You got  _ lost  _ in a tunnel, dumbass.”

“Oh, and there’s a King crab. Would’ve been nice for someone to tell us that fun little fact.” 

Dante stared at the pair of them. Something was different. Down in the tunnels, something had changed, some kind of unspoken agreement or… alliance, even. Laurance glanced towards Garroth, as if asking for permission to continue.

“I blew up the entire system of crab tunnels,” Laurance added helpfully.

“You  _ what!?”  _ Aphmau’s eyes widened. 

After a moment, Garroth said quietly, “Laurance almost fell into a gorge.”

It wasn’t even that funny, really. But then he was laughing and he couldn’t stop, and the room was full of giddy delight and giggling, and none of them wanted it to end. For the first time, Dante truly paused to look at all of them. Aphmau, still shocked at her two guards, but relieved to have them back. And the guards themselves, tentatively leaning against each other, as if to see if they even could, the twisted line of their lips suggested that they were biting back the urge to snap at the other. And Malachi, their youthful giggling rising from outside the house, playing among the pines.

Dante was playing a dangerous game, letting himself stay with them.

But for the first time, he dared to believe that he belonged with them.

  
  



	26. episode twenty six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Talk to Me by Cavetown <33 I might double some songs on accident :") Thanks for reading loverman!!! Your support means the world to me < 3

Aphmau didn’t think that they realised how terrified she had been. It all seemed to be a joke to them, but she couldn’t shake the image of Garroth and Laurance in the doorway, coated in dust and blood, shaking and injured. And she hadn’t realised how much they truly meant to her until they had vanished, and she was counting every heartbeat until they came back to her.

But they grinned and even managed to laugh about it. It was the least amusing thing Aphmau had ever heard, but when they were happy, it was infectious. It seemed that her feelings always revolved around them - when they were safe, she was content. It wasn’t until they left when she found herself reeling, unsure of herself. 

_Thank Irene they’re okay._

_I shouldn’t have let them go._

She had hovered close to the bed as Lucinda confirmed that Logan would begin to heal. Slowly, but surely, he would live. He had to. And she had supervised Lucinda as she bandaged Garroth's arm and cleaned the wound. There was a slight chunk on the edge of his arm where a crab had pinned him, but he had gripped Lucinda tightly. 

“Leave the scar,” he had commanded. 

Surely he wanted it healed?

But no one wanted to protest against him, so that was that. 

Garroth and Laurance had come to their senses, and had separated, quenching her hopes that their experience in the tunnels had brought them together at last. No. That had been a fool’s hope. It seemed that they were destined to oppose each other. 

“Cool,” Laurance said faintly, peering at the chunk in Garroth’s arm. “Does it hurt?”

“No, no, that is _not_ cool. It’s the opposite of it, actually.” 

“It hurts less now that Lucinda did her… magick… stuff,” Garroth said, gritting his teeth. “But yeah, still sore.” 

“You-” 

“Aphmau. I’m fine, really.” Garroth offered a false smile. She didn’t believe it for a second. 

Her quarrel wasn’t really with them, although she was plenty irritated for them for taking stupid risks and almost getting themselves killed. No, that wasn’t her main concern, as difficult to understand as that _was._

It was with Lucinda. 

She shooed the boys downstairs and outside for the fresh air to play with Malachi and closed the door behind her. She didn’t want them to hear her - she didn’t plan on losing her temper, it seemed like the kind of conversation she wanted to keep quiet. 

“Laurance and Garroth told me what they found in the tunnels,” she began.

“Oh, goodie,” Lucinda said, leaning back from where she was crouched over Logan. “So you’ve come to lecture me about… the crabs? The darkness? Take your pick.” 

“Why didn’t you warn them?” she accused. “If they’d been better prepared, then maybe…” 

“Maybe they wouldn’t go. Maybe they’d be more cautious. They’d take their time. Logan would die.” 

“They had enough trouble as it was! They could have…”

“Wasted ingredients that I _need_ for Logan just so they could see in the dark? Taken precious moments from Logan? Besides… I didn’t think they’d be so reckless.” 

“You clearly don’t know Laurance,” she grumbled. “But you knew that there was a King crab - and a _powerful_ one, at that. Surely, you could have warned them about that.”

“Some people work well under pressure.”

“Not my people.” 

But, she reflected, her party had been doing okay so far. Their journey hadn’t exactly been easy, and she guessed that Laurance and Garroth would have struggled to get to her - Dante had endured a lot on his path to her. Irene had guided them together, but it had not been Irene to save them.

They had saved themselves.

She narrowed her eyes. She _liked_ Lucinda - she was everything that Aphmau wanted to be but struggled to see herself as. Beautiful, composed, confident - she knew her own strengths and abilities and wasn’t afraid to flaunt them.

Aphmau lived in terror of her own hands, and what she might do. Could do. 

But she was still certain that Lucinda could have helped more, if she had wanted to.

She wanted to ask Lucinda all the questions bubbling in her mind, but she shoved them down. She wasn’t important - there were better things to concentrate on. 

“I should have sent you,” Lucinda acknowledged. “I see that now. I was just…”

“What, do you think I can’t handle myself?” 

“No, I’m sure you can.” Lucinda rolled her eyes slightly. “Your time as a wolf taught me that much. But…” 

“But…?” 

Lucinda visibly hesitated. “It seemed like a logical choice at the time.”

“But it’s not anymore?” 

“No. The King Crabs only attack men. If you’re a man in the wrong body, if you’re born a man - either away, the crabs will attack you. They can sense it.” 

“And you sent two men,” Aphmau said flatly. “Yes, that’s very logical of you.”

“Hush. I just… I just didn’t want you to go near those crabs, flower, that’s all. They’re vicious things.” 

Aphmau thought of the sizable chunk in Garroth’s arm and winced. Why had he been so determined to keep that reminder of his experience in the tunnels? 

“You’ve got a real roundabout way of trying to protect me.”

Lucinda’s eyes gleamed as she stepped away, brushing a few spices aside to sit on her desk, watching Aphmau with curiosity. Aphmau leaned out the window, and only managed a glimpse of the three guards playing with Malachi in the grass before the height made her sway and she shrank away. She hadn’t forgotten that Malachi had dangled her from high in their castle, how they had used her fears to hurt her. 

_They won’t do that again. Malachi has full control of their powers._

But the thought of being suspended in the air still made her deeply uneasy. 

If Lucinda had noticed, she didn’t comment, inspecting her short, red nails coyly. “You care a lot for those guards down there…”

It seemed like Lucinda was pushing for a definitive answer. 

“No,” said Aphmau. “I’m not romantically involved with… any of them. And none of them are interested, I know that for a fact.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Lucinda shrugged, crossing her legs, seeming to consider this. “And you don’t like any of them?” 

“No.” 

Her mind flickered over all of them. Dante, Laurance, and Garroth. Voices of glee rose from the ground, and squeals of delight from Malachi as Laurance chased them through the pines. Despite the chilled winds and bitter air, the sun had melted most of the snow away, and the woods gleamed with new life. 

Happy. 

They had changed so much - too much - since she had met them all, even Dante and Malachi, their newest companions. Life barrelling out of her control, her grasp. Not that she wanted things to stay the same - no, that wasn’t it - but the changes seemed to freeze her. 

_Get a grip. You’re a leader, Aphmau. Act like it._

  
  


* * *

_“You don’t have to act like a leader all the time. You know that... right?”_

_Meteli had proven to be busier than she expected. She had left Laurance at the docks, faintly confused by him. He was… strange. His confidence left her startled, but not in an uncomfortable kind of way. He was flirtatious, but not invasive. His grin was faint, his green eyes distant, as if he was thinking of something else even whilst he entertained her. He gave her directions, but at the end of his instructions, she was still lost. Blindly, she wandered away._

_He hadn’t followed her, but he watched her leave almost wistfully._

_She couldn’t understand._

_When she was almost out of sight she heard him blurt, “I’m sorry!”_

_She turned._

_Despite herself, she was curious about him. Something within her tugged her back towards him, this stranger, like a thread binding them to each other. She yearned to know him._

_Perhaps she knew him in another life. Perhaps that face was buried somewhere deep in her memories, where she couldn’t quite reach. Beyond her fingertips, she had a past, a childhood. Everyone had to have a childhood, right?_

_Why couldn’t Laurance be a part of hers? Was that so bad, to imagine that she actually had a past?_

_“I’m sorry,” Laurance repeated, holding up his palms. “I shouldn’t say those things.”_

_She couldn’t place what he meant. What things?_

_He had complimented her, but beyond that, she hadn’t felt threatened by his flirting. In fact, it seemed silly, as if he was pretending to be an idiot just to see her smile. But still, she bobbed her head awkwardly, not able to find the words to accept his apology, only acknowledging it._

_It was enough for him to run after him._

_“Do you need help?”_

_“I…” She visibly hesitated. Yes. She did, badly. She was already struggling as a Lord, taking on the responsibility that Garroth needed her to take, to help Phoenix Drop in whatever way she could, but what was worse was that she was losing herself._

_She knew nothing. She was still learning. The world felt new and exciting and dangerous - every step, every breath, every touch, was unfamiliar and foreign to her. She had woken up not knowing herself, who she was. No memories._

_It had become blaringly clear that she was struggling._

_Laurance didn’t know all of that - but maybe he could, she thought, if she gave him the chance._

_“Please,” she finally said. “I think I need a guide.”_

_He caught up to her and bowed deeply._

_“It would be an honour.”_

_They talked as he guided her through the tightly woven streets of Meteli. He seemed to relax the deeper he went into the town, comfortable with the dark ‘shortcuts’ and cobbled streets. Their conversations, at first, were tentative. She was asking about being a guard, but he seemed reluctant to discuss his position further than the simple statement, ‘It’s an honour.’_

_Inevitably, they got onto the subject of her as a Lord. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she felt as if she was obliged to be humble about her status. Were Lords forbidden from discussing their affairs with guards from other villages?_

_“Being a Lord is the greatest honour anyone could bestow upon me. I’m glad I chose this.”_

_Laurance glanced around. The street around them was mostly empty. Poking his tongue through his teeth, he laughed. “Liar.”_

_“I- no- I’m not-”_

_He could have been joking, but her defensiveness gave her away._

_“You might enjoy your job, but you didn’t choose to do this to yourself. You did it for someone else.”_

_She couldn’t protest, but she didn’t have to. They halted before the office that she had begged him to deliver her to, and inside, she saw figures making frantic motions._

_“I leave you here,” he said with a bow, seeming unwilling to go inside. “Find me later if you need to get something off your chest.” She felt bad. Aphmau wanted to spend time with Laurance - but the Lord wanted to fulfill her duty. There were too many people watching her, waiting for her to succeed or fail._

_She watched him walk away._

_She found him, though, hours later. Night had fallen, and she had spent too much of the evening awkwardly fumbling around Meteli, sticking to any path she found. She was half-heartedly exploring, half trying to find a way back to her ship tied to the docks._

_She finally caught sight of the ocean and wandered to it, although she was at a different side of the beach. She could see the dock further away, along the swampier, murky side of Meteli, but she had found her way onto grey sands and crumbling rocks. The black sky rumbled slightly over her head, the prophecy of a storm to come._

_A figure sat on the sand._

_“We don’t get storms like these in Phoenix Drop,” she said by way of greeting, and Laurance jumped._

_“Ah. Hullo, milady.”_

_“I’m just Aphmau.”_

_“Only for tonight, though?”_

_“... Yes.”_

_In a startling moment of clarity, she thought that he understood. He wasn’t a Lord, and he didn’t pretend to be. He wasn’t wearing his armour, and so he seemed more relaxed, although weary, as if his infectious confidence was nothing more than an act and he was growing tired of it._

_He asked her about Phoenix Drop, and it was there that she confessed to her lack of memory._

_“I just - I feel like I_ **_know_ ** _you. Is that stupid?”_

_“No,” he said, studying her carefully. “I don’t know you. But I think I could.”_

_She was always a Lord first, before anything else, but on that Meteli beach, she was who she wanted to be. She didn’t know herself, her past lost, but on the sand with Laurance she built her stories from nothing. She told tales of empires, adventure and treachery that she wove with her own lips and fingers, building a world of her own beyond what she thought her past could be. And Laurance listened patiently._

_She returned to Meteli often over those next weeks. Over one month - two._

_She wondered if Garroth knew that she had been sneaking away so often, and wondered why. Some nights, they wouldn’t talk, just lay on her back and watch the stars. Others, she’d only listen to Laurance. Others, she’d be the only one to talk._

_Both without their armour._

_“I want to be like this all of the time,” she said, stretching her hand out as if she could rest the stars in her palm. “Being a Lord, it’s… it’s cool. I like it. I don’t regret taking it on for Garroth, but…”_

_“Garroth, your Head Guard?”_

_“Mhm.”_

_His gaze flickered as if the name was familiar, but then he shrugged._

_“No, I get what you mean. It’s rare I find an opportunity… with anyone… to be_ **_me_ ** _. To stop pretending.”_

_“I don’t want to pretend, either,” she agreed, suddenly solemn._

_“You don’t have to act like a leader all the time. You know that... right?”_

_The words would always echo in her mind, her heart, a constant beating reminder of who she was and what she had to be._

_"I... I know. it just doesn't feel like that yet, you know? I'm... I'm trapped."_

_He waited for her to keep going, but it became apparent that Aphmau was finished. She stretched, fingers grazing the sand. She wished the weather was like this in Phoenix Drop - in fact, she wanted a lot of Meteli to be in Phoenix Drop. Namely the friend that she could confide in. He had told her about wanting to explore, to adventure the world, and she had to agree that it would be a beautiful thing to experience._

_But no..._

_Laurance sat up suddenly. “I know how you feel,” he said awkwardly. “I get what you mean. About… about feeling trapped. I get it.”_

_“Yeah?” Not a challenge or protest, but an invitation._

**_Go on._ **

_Curiosity burned at her as she sat up as well, feeling him stir with anticipation._

_“There was this- this boy- well, that doesn’t really matter that much. But for my whole life, I’ve been… I’m stuck, Aph.”_

_“Stuck… how? Like… as a guard?” She had the feeling that this meant more to him than being a guard. Than anything._

_“No. Not like that.”_

_She waited._

_His eyes searched her, pleading with her._

_“I’m gay.”_

_She hugged him tightly and his fingers gripped her back, clinging to her. His head rested on her shoulder. She blinked away her quiet surprise, and poured her energy into comforting him. Quietly but determinedly showing her support. She was no Lord, but a friend._

_In a matter of a few months, she had tied her fate to his, and was determined for it not to break._

_With her, he would not have to pretend._

* * *

  
  


He had hugged her the same way outside the jail cells. She didn’t understand why he needed that comfort at that exact moment, but she didn’t have to. She was willing to give it to him nonetheless, as confused as she was. 

What was he feeling? How was he struggling? It had been… _too long_ … since they had talked like they used to on the beach. There had never been an opportunity for her to just _talk._ These days, their armour always seemed to be on. 

_That’s my fault,_ she realised wistfully. She should have done more. 

Lucinda was watching her cautiously. “Go have fun with them,” she said, waving a hand. “I can tell your mind isn’t all here. You’ll be no help to Logan if he wakes up.” 

She visibly hesitated. “ _Will_ he wake up?” 

“I hope so.” They had to believe that he would. Otherwise, what were they working and struggling for?

“Go,” Lucinda urged. “Go with your friends. Take a break, for Irene’s sake.”

“Come with me.”

Lucinda hesitated. Her eyes bounced from Logan back to Aphmau. “Someone has to take care of Logan. Besides, they’re your family, not mine.”

_It could be,_ she thought. She wouldn’t mind having Lucinda around - in fact, she enjoyed the woman’s company. But Lucinda had made up her mind. 

“Go,” she insisted. 

Aphmau wondered if Lucinda was lonely as she bounded downstairs. She was confident and charismatic, but she had made it clear that she was fiercely independent. Maybe she preferred her peace. 

Still, Aphmau wanted to ask her. Not even from a logical perspective, not as a Lord strategizing her next move, but as a friend. Selfishly, stupidly, she didn’t want to leave Lucinda behind. 

She ventured outside, and instantly a bitter breeze curled around her. Whilst the Winter was cold, she was grateful for the lack of snow. 

Upstairs, Logan was slowly healing, but his fate was still uncertain. Upstairs, she had watched her friends return from a mission bloodied and angry. But downstairs, she wanted to live beyond her role as a Lord, to exist freely. In the pines, Laurance was chasing Malachi, both of them giggling wildly. Garroth was leaning against a tree, his sore arm dangling limply by his side as he supervised them. 

Dante leaned awkwardly against the house, and cautiously, Aphmau came to stand next to him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, merely watching. Malachi had taken Garroth by the hand and dragged him out into the grass to play. 

“Tag! Tag, you’re it!” 

“I’m too sore for this,” Garroth grumbled, but obliged nonetheless. Even Laurance seemed impressed as Garroth gave chase as Malachi squealed and ducked between the trees.

After a heartbeat of hesitation, as if seeing if he even could, Garroth touched Laurance’s nose with his own, sneering, “you’re it.” 

Laurance snorted with disapproval, but his cheeks glowed pink.

“You’d better run.”

And so he did, with Laurance chasing after him, crowing his delight, yelling, “watch out! Payback’s on its way!” 

So it was.

She and Dante locked gazes.

“Aphmau?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m ready.”

It took her too long to realise what he meant. 

“About being a guard. Your guard, I mean. If… you know, if the offer still stands.” He ran his hands through his hair awkwardly. 

“Oh, of course - of course it does. I wouldn’t change my mind.”

“Really? Even after all of the trouble I led us into?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she assured him. “Welcome, Dante.” 

She took his hand and pulled him into the woods, forcing herself as much as him to abandon their duties. Just for the afternoon, while the sun was still high, she would be selfish. 

Laurance seemed delighted to see her, so much so that he paused for Garroth to tackle him; the pair of them crashed onto the grass, wincing from pain but laughing nonetheless. 

“Pshh, get off!” 

Garroth rolled away, holding his bandaged arm gingerly to his chest as his eyes fell upon the sky. Aphmau crouched beside them, then stretched out on the grass. If she closed her eyes, she’d be on a stormy beach, basking in the pleasant glow of the moon. It wouldn’t just be Laurance laid by her side, but all of them.

All of them abandoning their armour. 

Malachi curled between Laurance and Garroth, breaking apart their tentatively brushing fingertips. The pair of them scowled, as if remembering why, exactly, they disliked each other. Something that Aphmau would never quite understand. 

Dante sat calmly opposite her, cross legged, eyes closed, as if he too was living a different, distant memory. 

_But_ **_this_ ** , she thought, _is what it means to be a Lord._


	27. episode twenty seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say, thank you so much for reading this fic!!! Your support means so so much to me, and I've never had any work been seen the way this one has been, so thank you for that <33 I'm so grateful for every hit, comment and kudos <3 
> 
> The song for this chapter is Power by Isak Danielson! < 3 
> 
> TW for implied domestic abuse in this chapter! Stay safe, stay hydrated, and take care of yourself <3

_ Garroth was determined to drag his brother as far away from Garte as possible, but he could already see his father’s influence trickling into his brother, keeping him close.  _

_ Zane had taken to wearing the mask that his father had gifted him. Perhaps he thought it made him more intimidating. No matter the reason, it left a bitter taste in Garroth’s mouth whenever he looked at him - with every passing day, despite his dark hair, Zane resembled his father more and more.  _

_ “C’mon, Zane,” he urged.  _

_ “I don’t want to play.”  _

_ Sitting on the stone wall a few metres away from Zane, their mother was caring for their new little brother. A sweet little boy with dark red curls, the spitting image of a man that Garroth had never met. Mother adored him. Garte, predictably, was sitting inside tending to ‘private’ affairs, unwilling to endure nor the brutal O’Khasis Winter or his wife.  _

_ “Zane, come on!”  _

_ “I don’t wanna.” Zane huffed through his mask, rubbing his hands together in the cold. He screwed up his nose at Garroth, floundering in the snow that had coated what used to be their gardens. Now, it was their playground. Garte would disapprove, curling his lip at Garroth playing so recklessly, stumbling through the snow without a care of his appearance. _

**_That’s not what a Prince should do._ **

_ In his eyes, he had always been a Prince.  _

_ “Zane,” he begged. He took hold of the scarf around Zane’s neck and pulled him into the snow, darting away from his brother’s hands trying to swat him away.  _

_ “Eugh! I think I just ate snow!”  _

_ “ _ **_Now_ ** _ will you play?”  _

_ “Will you shut up if I do?” He had learned that tone from Garte. _

_ “Mhm.”  _

_ “Ugh.  _ **_Fine._ ** _ ” Feebly, Zane picked up clumps of snow and rolled them into a ball between his palms, shuddering at the cold.  _

_ “Where are your gloves?” _

_ “I don’t need ‘em.” Zane was clearly trying to fight his childlike glee as he threw the snowball and hit Garroth on the cheek, giggling behind his mask. His youth hadn’t truly been stolen. _

_ Not yet, anyway.  _

_ Garroth threw a snowball into Zane’s chest, and the force of it made him stumble.  _

_ “I’ll get you for that!”  _

_ And so the chase began. Garroth bolted as Zane scrambled after him - whilst small and skinny, he was  _ **_fast._ ** _ He cornered him around the back of their tall, cobbled house, giggling wildly. Out of sight of either parent, Zane relaxed slightly, making another snowball triumphantly.  _

_ “You’re trapped. I have you now!” _

_ In his panic, Garroth hastily scooped a clump of snow and flung it, trying to distract Zane long enough to stop attacking. He was too competitive for this - he  _ **_had_ ** _ to win.  _

_ Zane wailed, clutching at his eye.  _

_ Garroth lingered for a moment - too long - thinking he was acting. His brother was good at pretending. But the pain in one stretched eye seemed… real. His fingers clutched at his eye.  _

_ “What the fuck!?” he screeched in his brother’s direction. “That  _ **_hurt!”_ **

_ “Mind your language,” Garroth said in a small voice, darting to his brother and trying to lift him up. “I’m- I’m sorry-”  _

_   
_ _ “Agh! It  _ **_stings!_ ** _ ”  _

_ “Zane, I-”  _

_ “Dad!” Zane ran, calling out for Garte, clutching at his eye. Zianna lifted her head from soothing baby Vylad to watch her son sprint past her, up the stairs and into the house. Her gaze trembled as Garroth stumbled up the stairs, then froze.  _

_ He couldn’t go in the house. He had to go, had to hide. Garte’s wrath would suffocate him if he ventured after his brother.  _

**_Go. Run. Hide._ **

_ Zianna stroked Vylad’s curls. “Garroth?”  _

_ Before he could bolt, the door flew upon. Zane was in Garte’s arms, head pressed into the man’s shoulder. The left side of his face was bright red, and his eye was firmly closed, lashes trembling.  _

_ “Garroth Ro’meave.”  _

_ That stupid title, family name. It burned on his tongue. He didn’t want it anymore. _

_ “Come here.” _

_ Garte curled a single, jagged finger, and like a helpless puppet dangling from a string, Garroth obeyed.  _

_ He didn’t want to be a Prince. Because what kind of royalty wouldn’t be able to protect his own mother? He had hurt his own brother - who, in turn, had sought the comfort of Garte.  _

**_Why Garte?_ **

_ Zianna got to her feet, protest already burning, but Garte fixed her with a glare that told her to  _ **_stay away._ **

**_Or else._ **

_ Garroth slank inside. The door closed behind him. _

**_I’m not scared. I’m not scared._ **

**_I’m a Ro’meave. A Ro’meave doesn't feel fear._ **

**_I am not afraid._ **

_ But in the end, he was not a Ro’meave, but merely Garroth, and the fear took him anyway.  _

  
  


* * *

  
  


They had set up camp just outside Lucinda’s house, insisting that they didn’t want to abuse her hospitality any more than needed. Perhaps that had injured her pride. But she had joined them outside nonetheless, sitting cross legged on the grass next to Aphmau, the glow of the campfire making her hair burn. 

“Do you remember what Azura said?” Garroth finally said, directing this at Laurance. He had cleaned himself up since his experience in the tunnels, and the firelight made his eyes dance. It had been a while since Garroth had seen him so… 

_ Pretty?  _ Was that the word?  _ Attractive  _ seemed like a curse to even consider. He gritted his teeth. There was something about that impish smile, that messy hair, that seemed to taunt him, challenge him. 

Push him to his limit. 

  
“I seem to recall that, yes,” Laurance said, stifling a grin. Malachi was half asleep in his lap, so he was keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing them. His gaze suggested exactly what he remembered - taunting Garroth about his childhood with Azura. Those dark eyes knew exactly how to look at him and peel away his armour and see exactly what he was trying to hide. He had the sense that Laurance knew more than he was letting on. 

“About Pikoro, and Lord Burt.” 

“Oh,  _ that.  _ Mhm.” 

“Azura told me the same thing,” Aphmau cut in. “If I was in Pikoro, if I could… check in…” 

Garroth’s gaze roamed to Lucinda, sitting awkwardly, as if uncertain that she could even stay. Despite himself, he was reluctant to admit that they needed her to discuss politics. Aphmau trusted her - was that enough?

“Aphmau, do you think…?” 

Lucinda met his glare. 

“Lucinda is staying here,” Aphmau said, leaving no room for argument.

_ Fine. If Aphmau thinks it’s a good idea, then… _

Laurance shrugged. “A visit on behalf of peace doesn’t take longer than a few days. Certainly not weeks. But if a member of the Jury of Nine is there, Garroth and I might have some problems.” 

“Why? Surely you two - three - could take a… a… Jury… person.”

“No,” Dante said quietly. “We couldn’t.” 

  
“Do you not know about the Jury?” Laurance added. 

“I don’t know much. I just know that they’re… powerful.”

“Me and Garroth are qualified to replace them, but that doesn’t mean we’re the same. Any one of them could outnumber all three of us.”

He glanced at Garroth, who jerked his head, inviting him to continue. Laurance shrugged, hands stroking Malachi’s hair, soothing them to sleep. 

Something about it reminded Garroth of his mother. And Vylad - oh, but he couldn’t bear to linger on the thought of Vylad for long. It would stir up memories he had no intention of recalling - or longing for. He had something better now, a family beyond his title.

“The Jury was established by Xavier, Guard of Light and admirer of Irene.” 

At Aphmau’s look of confusion, he smiled vaguely. “Xavier was a humble and noble man, a warrior and loyal guard to help a number of Lords and Ladies during his time. Lady Irene was a powerful warrior by herself, but many sought her for their own reasons. Assassination, threats, asking for her hand in marriage… She had a hard time going anywhere. Her quests, her adventures, they became struggles. But then... Xavier established the Jury of Nine.” He paused for dramatic effect.

Aphmau’s eyes were wide. 

“Get on with it,” Garroth grumbled. But even he had to admit that Laurance had the soothing voice of a storyteller that both made him sleepy and unleashed vivid images of the tales he wove into Garroth’s mind, painting Irene’s journey. He blinked in quiet surprise. 

“Fine, fine. The jury had the ability to pass judgement on anyone who approached Irene, no matter their intentions. To keep her safe, and be her faithful allies through any hardships she faced.”

Laurance’s gaze travelled around all of them, then finally rested on Dante and Garroth, the two guards - Dante was now an official guard, apparently. Garroth swallowed his jealousy. He was still the Head Guard, and Dante deserved to have his happy ending as much as anyone.

“More and more people in power needed protection. Xavier thus introduced the Guard Academy, to produce those with pure hearts to protect.”

_ Is my heart pure?  _

Garroth had trained as a guard in an act of defiance and desperation, to run from his father and the name that he had inherited from him. Always running from something, it seemed. But did that make him pure? Or just a coward. 

Laurance had called him a coward many times. 

Did that make it true? 

“He’s a hero,” Laurance said. His eyes fell on Garroth. “There are statues dedicated to him just as there are for Irene.”

“You said he was her admirer,” Aphmau began nervously. “Did he-” 

“Records say that he loved her more than life itself. Would do anything for her. But she didn’t return those feelings.”

Garroth briefly considered Azura. He hadn’t wanted to think that he’d hurt her, but he wondered if she was still upset over his rejection. Did she still think of him in that way, as his admirer? He hadn’t known how to explain to her that he hadn’t felt worthy of anyone.

That time was long gone.

But somehow, he felt that he hadn’t changed in how he perceived himself.

He was the same. He couldn't imagine anyone who would ever admire him again.

“He adored her. He was infatuated with her for the longest time, but her heart belonged to the world, and her people. It is said that she eventually married and kept her family a sacred secret, but… we’ll never know if it was Xavier that won her affections.” 

He paused, allowing the impact of his words to sink in, spreading his arms. Garroth had never taken him for a storyteller, but Laurance seemed at ease with his tales, the narrative that he presented to them. Perhaps that went hand in hand with his desire to adventure, to explore, Garroth realised.

“That’s sad,” Dante said suddenly, seeming wistful. “That if she loved Xavier, she never could have shown it.”

“Love and secrets are often intertwined,” Laurance muttered darkly. 

“So why are you going to have a problem?” Aphmau pressed, blinking herself out of her weariness at that. “Surely the Jury isn’t  _ that  _ bad… right?” 

“Over time, the Jury has become corrupted. The intention with which Xavier began it has been lost and warped over time, and such a collection of power in one place can be easily manipulated to suit a Lord or Lady’s personal interests.” 

“Oh.” 

“Your pacifist nature will be helpful,” Garroth said. He looked to Laurance and Dante, then awkwardly gestured to himself, too. “Those with a  _ temper  _ may struggle.”

He didn’t want to include himself in that equation. He had thought of himself as polite, noble, perhaps slightly hot-headed, but never having a furious temper. Things had changed lately. He had met people that seemed to force unfamiliar, ugly emotions from him. Garroth had become more outspoken since Laurance had forced his way into his life. 

Was that good, or bad? 

The motivation to be more extroverted wasn’t a bad idea, but he had to lament the calm, reserved Guard that he used to be. The Guard that Aphmau clearly preferred. 

_ I should do better to keep my mouth shut. For her.  _

“Then we must be cautious when we enter Pikoro. Now that Logan is… safe… our priority is Lord Burt.”

“Not O’Khasis?” Laurance seemed surprised. Not for the first time, Garroth remembered their fight at Malachi’s castle, stabbing at every insecurity he had about his old home, his family. 

That Garroth was enabling O’Khasis to steal everything he loved.

He had told Aphmau that he would return to O’Khasis to make things right as soon as they saved Logan - by this point, he should have been talking to his father. Not sitting beside a campfire, warming his hands, appreciating the friends that he had managed to collect. 

Laurance had not forgotten, either. His eyes gleamed. He wanted Garroth to fulfill his promise. To leave. Everything would be so much better for him if Garroth was gone, wouldn’t it?

Garroth didn’t want to leave them behind, despite himself.

He wanted to be selfish. 

So he said, hastily, “I'm certain that we should make Lord Burt and Pikoro our priority. It's the right move.” 

Laurance inclined his head, seeming to understand that he was buying time.

Aphmau was watching him carefully. 

“Because,” he continued, “negotiating peace should not take so long. Zane could be… could… well, I wouldn’t put it past him to hold Burt there until he agrees to join the O’Khasis Alliance. He’d have a way through which to attack Phoenix Drop.” 

“Everything inevitably ties to O’Khasis,” Dante said. “That’s just the way it is. By going to Pikoro, you aren’t getting distracted by other matters. This concerns the fate of Phoenix Drop, and the world itself.”

_ Thank Irene for Dante,  _ he thought, who made his suggestion seem reasonable. Aphmau was nodding. 

Laurance, after a moment of hesitation, bowed his head. “Someone has to stop O’Khasis.”

He locked gazes with Garroth. 

_ I will, _ he swore,  _ but I’m not doing it for you. _

But Laurance sat up in burning determination, and Garroth wondered if he had ever truly held Laurance’s attention, or was merely an afterthought. “We have to make our  _ own  _ alliance.” 

“Can we even do that?” Dante managed.

“Of course we can. We do what’s necessary.” 

“I’m not sure if conflict is the answer to this,” Aphmau protested. Being a pacifist would be her strength in Pikoro, but in war it would be her downfall. 

In a way, it could be Garroth’s, too. 

“This isn’t just conflict,” Laurance argued. “We’re preparing to block an attack from O’Khasis before it even happens. We can stop everything, with the right moves.”

His eyes gleamed. 

“Alright,” Garroth said reluctantly. “What do you propose?”

“We save Lord Burt from Zane and gain allegiance from Bright Port. Our next target is Meteli, and… Cadenza can help us there.” His gaze clouded as he mentioned his home. “And then, our secret weapon… Scaleswind.” 

Garroth sat up in surprise. 

“Really?” 

“Why not? O’Khasis fears Scaleswind, right?” 

“Yes,” Dante cut in. “O’Khasis is bigger, but Scaleswind is the home of Lady Irene. Screwing with Scaleswind would bind the cities against O’Khasis.”

Aphmau jumped to her feet, accidentally waking Malachi, who sat up drowsily and curled awkwardly against Laurance. “That’s it!” 

“You like it?” Laurance puffed out his chest, unable to hide his arrogance. Garroth curled his lip slightly, then forced himself to relax. This wasn’t the time. 

And besides, he’d feel bad if he ruined Laurance’s gleeful smile. 

“To Pikoro in the morning, then! And from there… we’ll build an alliance to rival O’Khasis. To stop the war before it even begins.”

Dante had been quiet, and now his blue eyes churned with unease. Garroth was so busy watching him, trying to unravel his thoughts, that he jumped when Lucinda got to her feet, pale patches of skin golden in the glow of the fire. 

“Lucinda, do you…?”

“I’d love to help,” she began awkwardly. “But I… I can’t… I don’t think I can go to Pikoro. I’ll stay here with Logan. I need to take care of him. You’ll come back, though, right? You’ll come back to say goodbye?”

Despite herself, she seemed desperate, unwilling to let them vanish from her lives as determined as she was to appear collected. 

“Of course we will,” Aphmau said. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I just…” Lucinda shrugged. “Just making sure.” 

After sweeping her bright amber gaze across them all, lingering on Aphmau, she strode back into her house and closed the door behind her. Aphmau watched her leave, seeming deflated by that. 

“So it’s done?”

“It’s done.” 

Aphmau got to her feet and brushed grass and dust off of her clothes, stretching delicately. “I’m too tired for this.” 

“Sleep,” Garroth urged her. “We won’t decide anything without you.” 

He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, anyway. He was far too alert, awake for danger. 

“It’s bed-time for you, too,” Laurance said, lifting Malachi. 

“Ghosts don’t have bed-times,” Malachi answered sleepily. 

“This one does. Quickly, say goodnight to Garroth before you go.”

Garroth obliged, giving Malachi a hug, and all at once, knew that he would, inevitably, go to O’Khasis. To protect them, he would go. 

_ Is this what it feels like to have a true family? A child? Loved ones? _

Laurance watched Malachi scamper into their tent, and waited until they could no longer hear them shuffling around in their sleeping bag. 

“What’s up with you?” Garroth finally said, fixing Dante with a cool glare. 

“Nothing important,” the new guard answered, seeming nervous to be addressed. “I’m just… is it only me, or is Aphmau somewhat… naive?” 

“I see your concern,” Laurance admitted, coming to lay down between the two men.

“She thinks this alliance is instantly achievable. That this will work, and instantly there won’t be a need for war. That’s true enough, but with enough planning, we can make it happen.” Garroth tried to keep his doubt of his voice.

“Life isn’t so predictable,” Dante said bitterly. “As nice that would be…”

“We’ll just be cautious, then,” Laurance insisted. “There’s no need to tell her that she’s doomed to fail - that’s just cruel.” 

“I’m telling her there’s a chance she will.  _ That’s  _ honesty.”

“No matter what, I’ll protect her. Can you say the same?”

“I will.” Laurance’s reply was instant.

After a heartbeat of doubt, Dante dipped his head. “Me too.”

Garroth laid down on the grass. His fingertips brushed Laurance’s warm palm, and for once, he did not feel the need to pull away. It was almost comforting. Laurance did not move, barely seemed to breathe, as if stirring would somehow shock them back into their senses. 

This was wrong. 

The entire night, Laurance had been staring at him, searching for something that Garroth couldn’t find within himself. As if asking,  _ you, too? _

It was wrong, and stupid, and foolish of him to begin to consider allying with an exiled Shadow Knight and sworn rival. Laurance, he had discovered, wasn’t just a soldier from the Nether. That was what he hated most about him. He was so many things, so many people, that Garroth could never quite tell  _ what  _ he wanted.

_ What  _ **_do_ ** _ you want, Laurance? _

It was wrong to wonder. To let their fingertips tentatively touch - that was sin by Garroth’s own moral vow.

But he did not pull away. 


	28. episode twenty eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Fields of Gold by Eva Cassidy !! < 3

Laurance didn’t want to be the one to tell Malachi. He felt like a traitor of a father, to be the bearer of bad news, but he couldn’t exactly force Garroth to take his place. 

_ Garroth. _

He was trying to avoid the thought of Garroth. He wanted life to be a smooth path, wanted to be free, never wanted to hurt again - but every quiet moment was burdened by sly glances in Garroth’s direction, as if searching for some hint or clue that Garroth was looking at him, too. 

If he was staring, it would only be out of hatred, and suspicion. Laurance wanted to say the same of himself, but somehow, he knew the angry, bitter feelings churning in him weren’t exactly hatred.

Angry, sure. Distrust, certainly. 

But not hate.

He was determined to not dwell on that thought because, if he did, it would hurt to consider Garroth as anything more than an enemy. 

He knew from experience that it would not end well. 

That was why he had to be the one to kneel in front of Malachi, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the party. Not Garroth, but him alone. 

“I’m sorry,” he said,” but you won’t be able to accompany us to Pikoro.” 

Malachi sat in the grass, blinking up at him with their round, owlish eyes. 

“But…”

“Lucinda warned us that… that Pikoro is strictly against magick and powers - you’re a ghost, and your abilities… well…”

“I… But you said…” 

“I meant every promise I made.”

“Then-” 

“I’m not bringing you, Malachi, because I never want to see you hurt, trapped or threatened again. I don’t want to be the one to do that to you.” 

“But I want to go with you!” Their bottom lip trembled. Their form flickered with their heightened anxiety as their hands clasped Laurance’s sleeves, begging. 

“I can’t let you.”

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me behind!” 

“And I’m  _ not.”  _ Laurance couldn’t fight his feeling of failure. He had done this. He had forced this anger out of Malachi. But how could he bear to watch his adopted child suffer an awful fate in Pikoro? It was to save their life. “I’m coming back for you.”

“But you- you said-” 

“I’m not leaving you behind, Malachi. I couldn’t - I love you too much for that. But I won’t put you into danger and watch Pikoro tear you apart.”

Malachi sank into his chest. “Please say you’ll come back. Please. Don’t leave me. Not again.” 

“I won’t.”

“Please don’t go.” 

“I have to, Malachi.” 

“I don’t think - I can’t - do this again.” 

“ _ I’ll come back for you.  _ Okay? You hear me? I’ll always come back for you. I won’t leave you.” 

He felt Malachi’s ghostly fingers drawing patterns in his shirt, trying to bite back their sniffling. Laurance didn’t want to go to Pikoro if it meant leaving Malachi behind - but he owed a debt to Aphmau, and he’d never forgive himself if he missed an opportunity to make fun of Garroth. 

It had become one of his most entertaining hobbies. Plus, it was a silent reminder for Laurance to not let his feelings guide him in the wrong direction. There would always be that inevitable distance between them that he couldn’t close - and he would not allow himself to think that there was anything more. 

“Lucinda will love your company,” he said softly. “And I promise that I’ll return.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

They had all said their farewells - Aphmau to Lucinda, and Laurance to Malachi, and even Garroth hugged Malachi goodbye - and now only stood with the essentials in their bags. Pikoro wasn’t far, but there was no predicting how long they’d have to stay for. 

_ Not long,  _ he secretly hoped.

He shouldn’t have looked. He was walking down the cobbled path, next to Garroth, telling himself that he would not turn. Could not turn. 

But he was looking over his shoulder nonetheless, gaze struck with despair as Lucinda’s hand rested on Malachi’s shoulder, prepared to grab them if they ran to him. 

Malachi, standing helpless, haunted eyes wondering if their father would ever come back - for the second time. 

He turned his back, gritted his teeth. The faster they got their task done, the sooner he could come back. 

_ And I will come back.  _

_ Stop looking. You’ll only hurt yourself more.  _

He turned around, and his eyes inevitably settled onto the blond guard. 

_ Although _ , he reminded himself,  _ with Garroth around, I’m struggling  _ **_not_ ** _ to hurt myself. _

“Aphmau, I have something for you,” Garroth murmured. 

Laurance forced his face away from Malachi, watching Garroth nudge Aphmau out of her trance. He jogged to catch up to them, as Garroth pulled a gleaming amulet out of his bag. 

He didn’t miss Dante flinch at the sight of the amulet, and shrink away from them slightly. 

“What’s that?” Aphmau asked. 

“A communication amulet. Lucinda helped us with it… well, because we can’t go into Pikoro with you. Not for a while, at least.” 

“What? You’re making me go alone?”

“I think going in together would be a stupid idea,” Laurance cut in, poking Garroth’s arm. 

“He’s right,” Garroth said reluctantly. “You’re already sought after by Zane, and the Jury of Nine might take you and… try to force you to join the O’Khasis alliance. Having guards will draw unwanted attention to your status.” 

“Ah.” She seemed suddenly uncertain, not wanting to part from them. But Laurance understood that Aphmau was capable of defending herself easily, although he’d worry for her, she could take care of herself. 

“You’ll be fine,” Laurance said easily. “We’ll be… practically right behind you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Use this amulet when you need us, and we’ll come straight to you,” Garroth said, pressing it into her palm. 

Laurance hoped that she would never have to use it. But he didn’t trust Irene to secure anything good for him at this point, and he was expecting trouble. He was sure that Pikoro was dangerous, and that had been settled the second he found out that they didn’t trust magick users. Didn’t trust _Malachi_.

Even brave, confident Lucinda seemed nervous when talking about Pikoro, as if it left a bitter taste on her tongue. He wondered what relationship she had, as a witch, to Pikoro, particularly living so close to the city. 

Aphmau clutched the amulet close to her chest as they walked down the trail. Laurance risked a glance behind him - the house had disappeared behind the cluster of pine trees, and so Malachi and Lucinda faded into his past. 

_ You’re in my future, too,  _ he swore. Even Lucinda, he thought, deserved his attention. He was curious about her, who she was underneath her charisma. And, of course, Malachi. His fate was bound to the ghost child now. He wouldn’t give that up so easily.

They walked in silence, in the dark, as the night was poised to slightly mask their identities, until Dante gave a quiet cough, and pointed to the treetops, where smoke and cobbled chimneys poked through the green and blue. 

“We leave you here.” 

“What will you do while you wait?”

When the others hesitated, it was Dante who lifted his chin and said, “we plan. We get mounts - horses - and prepare to enter Pikoro by daylight.” 

Aphmau lifted her chin to the night sky, and pulled her hair back into a bun. 

“Wish me luck,” she managed. 

They chorused their best wishes. When Laurance looked at her, he tried to convince himself that she wouldn’t need to use that amulet - that she would not be targeted, attacked, humiliated or anything of the sort. That she would be safe. 

He was still worried for her.

“Be careful,” he murmured, as her figure walked into the mist. He watched her fade away. He knew that it was hopeless to place her fate in the hands of Irene when the goddess had done nothing for him, but just this once, he prayed for her. He prayed that this would not be the day he lost his family. 

“She’ll be fine,” Dante said sharply. 

“That doesn’t stop me from worrying,” Garroth sighed. “I suppose you want to go and… catch some horses now?”

“Keep ourselves busy until daytime.”

“Or until she calls for help.”

“Or-” 

“She won’t,” Dante said confidently. Laurance tried to believe him. 

“I think hunting for wild horses in the dark is going to be the most useless thing I’ve ever done,” Garroth groaned. 

“Tell me about it.” 

* * *

_ In the night, he came back to the beach. It was the same hallucination that had tormented him in the Nether, chasing him into his living dreams.  _

_ Even when he was awake, the grey Meteli sands would hunt him down. _

_ Real, or fake?  _

_ Who would ever be able to tell? _

_ He saw Aphmau’s figure huddled, knees to her chest, sitting in the sand.  _

**_I’m only dreaming. It’s only a dream. Nothing can hurt you here._ **

_ But if he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the smoke. Could feel his skin burning against the hot stones.  _

_ When he opened his eyes, the Nether would be there to greet him. He would hear Gene’s voice taunting him back into sleep. Another hallucination to keep him trapped, keep him reeling in his mind.  _

_ Dante…  _

_ Aphmau… _

_ Malachi... _

_ Garroth… _

_ Had they known exactly how to make him dare to believe that was safe? Loved?  _

**_Not again._ **

**_Please._ **

_ But then he was moving anyway, sitting next to Aphmau. Over and over again, the confession would tumble out without permission. He didn’t want it to happen again.  _

_ But yet he kept on reliving the nightmare that the Nether had gleefully taught him. _

_ He hadn’t been rescued after all. _

_ No first kiss. No seeing the world. No adventures, no exploring, no future. That was a fool’s hope, to imagine that… anyone… would ever love him. He was in the Nether. _

_ That was it for him.  _

_ “Our future is going to be amazing,” Aphmau would say, laying back on the sand.  _

_ She’d always say something about their future. _

_ “I think you’d love Garroth.”  _

_ In another world, perhaps he could’ve.  _

_ “You’d get along so well.” _

_ He would quietly laugh, his chest rattling with pain. He was breathing in smoke, letting himself choke. Trying to hurt himself as much as possible before Aphmau turned on him. Because, inevitably, she would.  _

_ They all would.  _

_ “You’re my best friend,” she said.  _

_ “I know.” His voice broke. _

**_Don’t._ **

_ “I know you better than anyone.”  _

_ “I know.”  _

_ The hallucination splintered around him. _

_ “You do know,” Aphmau would say, “that you don’t deserve anything that you have?”  _

_ “I know,” he said, and believed it with his ugly, thieving heart. “I know.”  _

**_Not real. Not real._ **

_ There on the beach, he endured it. Tried to tell himself that it was all fake. That Aphmau would never say such awful things to him, but…  _

_ Didn’t he deserve this?  _

_ He knew what was coming. It didn’t make it hurt any less when Aphmau pinned him to the ground, and had her hand braced around his throat. She smiled as she squeezed, and watched him splutter with delight.  _

_ It changed. The Nether knew his weaknesses too well - knew who could hurt him the most.  _

_ This, though, was different.  _

_ On the sand, he was a child, and a cowardly one, at that. He’d spar with Rabbit, and claim that his red face was in thanks to the Summer heat. But sometimes those amber eyes would be blue. And sometimes his hair would not be dark, but blond, and curly.  _

_ He had dreamt of Garroth before. Those hallucinations were some of the worst; Garroth did not hesitate to make the pain last longer.  _

_ Aphmau made his death quick.  _

_ He would die too often in his nightmares.  _

_ The way that Garroth dragged his blade along his chest, tilted his chin upwards with the sword, almost felt normal. That was the most painful thing of it all - that when Garroth gave that cruel, crooked grin, it almost felt real.  _

_ Almost felt good.  _

_ It was so familiar. _

_ “Don’t fucking move.”  _

_ And so he did not. He let the blood drip down his chest, pooling on the sand. Let it trickle over his cheeks, over his lips, his neck. Let Garroth gently, with a lover’s hand, cut him open. _

_ “You’re so obedient,” Garroth cooed. _

**_Not usually._ **

**_Fight back._ **

_ But yet he did not. _

_ “Don’t,” he managed, blood bubbling at his lips. “Don’t hurt me.”  _

_ “But you like it, don’t you?”  _

_ “No.”  _

**_Yes._ **

_ He didn’t want Garroth to have any kind of control over him. In fact, there were so many things he didn’t want - but the Nether didn’t care about that. No hallucination would spare him from his fears. They would dangle hope in front of him, then snatch it away.  _

_ It was Aphmau to betray him.  _

_ But these days, it would always be Garroth to deliver the killing blow. _

* * *

  
  


When he jolted into the living world, he didn’t dare to believe it. The sun was violently beating his chest, his cheek, where he lay sprawled in the long grass. His skin was scratched by burrs and grass seeds - itching, he sat up. 

Both Garroth and Dante looked up from where they stood, caught in conversation. 

From a distance, Dante’s ragged haircut seemed dark. His voice, low and cunning; his eyes, like burning coals, lamps bobbing in the stark daylight. He blinked, and the image was gone. 

But he was so familiar… 

He was  _ Dante  _ \- awkward Dante, stumbling over his words, trying to seem collected but startled by Laurance’s awakening. 

Laurance scrambled back. 

_ Not real.  _

When Garroth strode towards him, he found himself frozen, unable to run or cower. Just staring helplessly up at the blond. 

_ Do it quickly.  _

He tilted his chin, batting his lashes slightly. “Hurry up.” 

“What?” 

Dante jogged over to them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Garroth muttered quietly, making Laurance jump. 

_ Real.  _

How had Garroth become the one to keep him tethered to the waking world, to convince him that he was safe? 

He slowly got to his feet, eyes burning. Safe. Alive. 

Garroth raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and in that instant, Laurance was sure that he  _ knew _ . Garroth knew he was dreaming of the Nether again. He had witnessed his nightmares first hand when they traveled in the woods together, and now, he  _ saw  _ him. Was peering into his shaking, unsteady soul.

“We tethered the horses to a tree,” Dante reported, blinking nervously down at Laurance. “Garroth ordered me not to wake you… ” 

_ Did he, now?  _

Garroth shot Dante a glare. “Sleeping beauty over here  _ clearly  _ needs the rest.”

Laurance could only imagine how ragged and tired he looked, and scowled deeply. “You shouldn’t let me sleep in.” 

The question was already on his tongue.  _ If you knew I was dreaming, why wouldn’t you wake me up?  _

He’d been mistaken - of course, obviously, Garroth Ro’meave would want him to suffer. He didn’t know why that made him so defeated. Wasn’t that his life’s purpose? 

“I’ve already spoken to Aphmau,” Garroth said gruffly, looking anywhere but at Laurance. “Through the amulet. She’s fine. We have orders to stay out here. 

“If our amulet becomes cracked, that means she broke it on her end and needs help,” Dante put in. He curled his lip slightly. “So we wait for a signal or… for that…”

“We won’t need it,” Garroth said firmly, refusing to acknowledge the thought of Aphmau in danger. 

Laurance caught sight of the horses they had managed to round up - mostly thanks to Dante, who was no stranger to the experience, whilst Garroth and Laurance had trouble - tied to a pine tree bordering the field that they had chosen to hunt through. None of them had planned to sleep vulnerable in the open, as any trained guard would know not to do - but at some point they hadn’t been able to resist sleep. 

It had been a long few days for all of them. 

“Laurance.  _ A word.”  _ Garroth inclined his chin and curled a finger, and Laurance followed helplessly, unable to resist. 

As he passed Dante, the blue-haired man chuckled under his breath. “Someone’s in trouble.”    
  


“Shut up.” 

They strode through the long grass in silence, through the field, until Dante was a dark blur behind them. 

_ Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps I’m dying again.  _

All around them were bright, tangled wildflowers, petals striking against the grass like drops of mud. Laurance sank to his knees, fingers brushing the flowers. 

It wasn’t the Meteli beach.  _ But it wouldn’t be so bad to die here, _ he thought.

It was nice to live, too. This world was beautiful. The sky cradling the earth in its arms made him choke on breath, hesitate, question every awful thought he’d ever had. Spots of pine dappling the distant mountains like hushed kisses upon the neck, brush strokes of cloud cover swimming overhead, drifting over a river of blue and gold.  _ This  _ was beauty. He felt Garroth standing beside him, quiet for too long. As if he, too, was struck speechless by the sweeping landscape poised frozen in front of him; if either of them moved, breathed, the world would stir and flutter past them. 

Those precious moments that Garroth didn’t want to steal away - Laurance shakily tucked that away, stored it in his soul. Quietly, as if afraid to disturb him, Garroth sat beside him, palms on his knees. 

“We’re real,” he said, so quiet that Laurance hardly heard him. He turned his head slightly. 

_ Are we?  _

_ Is this real?  _

“I owe you an apology, I think.” He bit down on his lip, hard, and Laurance didn’t miss the blood staining his bottom lip. As if it pained him to even  _ try.  _

_ This has to be real.  _

“Aphmau would want me to try,” Garroth said, as if reading his thoughts. “No matter my judgement of you, she’d… she’d want me to try.” 

“Do you do everything Aphmau wants you to, or do you have a mind of your own?”

“No one told me to feel the way I do about you. I just do.” 

“Comforting.”

Although he never specified what, exactly, that feeling was, Laurance was sure that it was mutual - and he couldn’t begin to describe it. 

“I have to apologise for…”

Laurance risked a glance in Garroth’s direction. His blue eyes glowed in the sunlight. He shook his fumbling thoughts away from his freckles, crinkling over his nose, twitching with every tug of his lips.

_ Say it.  _

“I should’ve woken you up the second I remembered about your… er… nightmares. That goes against my moral code.”

“Your  _ moral code.  _ What, as a  _ noble  _ guard?”

“As a man.” 

That made Laurance pause to consider. He didn’t  _ enjoy  _ perpetuating his cocky, confident persona, but he had been building it for so long, he was scared to let it crumble away. Garroth tore away at those walls - and perhaps that was why he resented him so much. 

“Did you wake up today and decided to punish me for a while? See me thrashing in the grass and decide that I could suffer?”

“Aphmau would kill me if she knew I let you be in pain.” 

“And you did. I guess you’d better prepare for Aphmau’s wrath.” 

“I hesitated. That makes me a dick.” 

“It truly does.”

It wasn’t funny, but Garroth chuckled in thin amusement, and laid on his back in the flowers. A white petal clung to his cheek. Laurance’s eyes lingered - for too long. He bit back his curse.

“I won’t hesitate again,” Garroth vowed, clenching his hands into fists. “I won’t be my father.”

_ So that’s what this is about. Nothing to do with me, but…  _

“For what it’s worth,” Laurance said awkwardly, laying down beside him. “I take back some of the things I said to you about your family.” 

“Only some?” 

“Well, it’s now clear to me that your father is so insufferable that I would kill on sight, unfortunately. Luckily for you, you’ve survived with me this long.” 

Garroth barked out a startled laugh. “Oh?” 

“I’ve decided that I hate you for being you, not because of your stupid name. Although it  _ is  _ stupid.” 

“That’s… reassuring.”

Laurance sat up. What was he _ doing?  _ Allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of Garroth, luring himself into a false sense of calm. The world was beautiful, and so was the Ro’meave, and  _ that  _ was a trap if he’d ever seen one.

Garroth’s cheeks were faintly pink. “So do you accept?”

“What?”

“My apology!” He was almost begging for it.

“Aphmau  _ did  _ put you up to this!” 

“This is nothing but my own guilt, don’t misunderstand me. As…  _ fucking annoying…  _ as you are… I’ll wake you up if I notice you having nightmares again. Deal?” 

“A deal implies me doing something in return.”

“You don’t-” 

“If I see you being a dick I’ll refrain from slicing open your cheek.” 

Garroth’s fingers flew to the faint white line in his cheek. That had been from one of their first training spars - he was surprised that Garroth remembered it clearly. A Phoenix Drop Autumn felt years away from the strange wild Winters that they now endured. 

“Deal. I won’t hesitate, and you won’t… whatever you said.” 

His entire body prickled with electricity as Garroth grasped his hand and they shook, binding themselves to that deal. 

Making deals with Garroth, even stupid ones, felt like a betrayal to everything Laurance wanted to be. 

But yet… it also felt like a step on the right path, accepting his apology. 

Garroth leaned forward, as if to leave, but Laurance leaned back again, spreading his arms gleefully among the flowers. A bee hummed close to his ear and he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to flinch away. 

_ Real. _

__

He pretended to ignore Garroth sitting calmly beside him, squinting slightly to see the guard lifting his chin to the sky, sun-kissed skin glowing. He pretended not to see, watching him peacefully. 

It wasn’t so bad, to stop arguing with him.

After a moment, he shut his eyes again. A faint, contented smile bloomed - but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t tell  _ why.  _ He was merely filled with a sudden, irrational glee in that precious moment, curled beside Garroth, never touching. 

Their minds wandered.

The world was quiet for them. 

  
  



	29. episode twenty nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Stop Thinking (About Me) by Alfie Templeman !! Thanks for reading < 3

  
  
  


Aphmau bowed her head and prayed to Irene. 

She supposed it was normal for Pikoro, a routine for them to have a place to worship their ancient Goddess, but she had never been to a Church so…  _ powerful _ . She sat quietly in front of a statue of Irene that peered warily down at her, gleaming with the spray of a small fountain perched underneath it. She had never felt Irene’s spirit curled around her, never so forcefully  _ present  _ with her. 

Her faith had stuttered, being born into a strange world of deities and magick unfamiliar to her. She had learned to appreciate the silent guidance of ghostly hands, letting them pave her path. The flame of her belief in Irene had spluttered out when she journeyed, fending for herself. Irene hadn’t saved her, or her friends. They relied on each other. 

But she felt ancient breathing whispering down her neck. Silent judgement closed in on her, crouched on her knees before the statue. 

“Please. Guide me to Lord Burt.” 

_ Do something useful. _

Her skin prickled with the feeling of being watched, but when she raised her head, the only eyes on her were of Irene’s statue, burning in disapproval. 

She didn’t dare to believe that she was being… what,  _ punished? _ Hurt for her lack of faith? She shoved up from the ground. 

“I don’t need your help.”

But she didn’t believe it herself. 

She felt helpless. Every time she had spoken to her guards through the amulet, sitting in a dirty room in an old, crumbling inn, she could hear the strain in their voices. They wanted to go to her - and she didn’t want to admit that she was desperate for company that wasn’t O’khasis guards accompanying to the inn during a curfew. She told them to wait, no matter how badly she needed the help.

Under the morning sun, she had allowed the kind inn-keeper to help her. She stood in a long, flowing lilac skirt and a fluffy white coat, an appropriate Pikoro outfit - although not for hunting for a missing Lord - and his knowledge in clothing was more productive than his knowledge of lost Lords. No one had ever seen, or met, Lord Burt. Neither did the priest she briefly cornered, or the children playing in the marketplace. No shop owner seemed inclined to listen to her. 

She was almost inclined to call her Guards in to help her. Irene wouldn’t do a thing for her.

She wandered out into the street blindly, searching for anything out of place. She stumbled too close to an O’Khasis guard, and heard him hiss between gritted teeth as he shoved her away from the well he was leaning against.

“The water is poisoned,” the guard said lazily, waving a hand. She had glanced at the well for a moment too long, and now his cruel gaze raked over her, suspicion growing. What interest would a well-dressed young lady take in a mere well, and not even a useful one?

His brows narrowed when Aphmau didn’t move, expecting her to leave without a second thought. 

Her hesitation made her a target.

“So I can’t drink the water?”

“I…I- no, you can drink.” He seemed suddenly nervous.

“So…? Is it poisoned or not?” 

“So? So it’s not safe to hang around.” As he glared at her, her triumph was replaced with sudden panic. A few older guards glanced over their shoulders in her direction, wondering what the fuss was about. 

“But-” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, woman! Get out of here!” 

The guard placed a hand on his sword, and his gaze followed her as she walked away, trying to keep her composure. She had to get away before he began to wonder - who was the pretty young stranger asking too many questions?

If he came after her-

She would smash her amulet on the pavement and pray, if he chased after her. When she was around the corner, she broke into a run. She barely registered that she had stumbled into the tavern until heavy, bellowing laughter reached her and she breathed in smoke and alcohol, screwing up her nose slightly. 

The bartender was watching her warily, so she sat on a stool, trying to control her panic. She entertained the bartender in boring conversation, waiting for the doors to slam open and the guards to drag her away. 

There was nothing but muffled conversation from nearby tables, so she dared to motion to the bartender.

“Have you seen a Lord?” She described Lord Burt, watching the bartender think, fairly disgruntled that she hadn’t bought anything yet. 

Finally, the man straightened his shirt. “I wouldn’t be talking so loudly about Lords.”

Aphmau bit her lip.  _ Stupid. _

“The leader of the O’Khasis guards is hanging around today, and folks get spooked when you talk about Lords. Maybe because ours is gone, too.”

She had heard that, but at first, it hadn’t seemed connected to Lord Burt. But the longer she thought about it, the more it made sense. The lack of a leader struck fear into citizen’s hearts - perhaps that was why they had accepted the O’Khasis influence so easily.

Two Lords, vanished into oblivion. She couldn’t make sense of it. 

Wisely, she shut her mouth, but the sensation of being watched, once again, filled her. She wanted to blame it on Lady Irene - but when she glanced to the side, there was no mistaking that a man in regal silver uniform had stood from his chair, and was striding in her direction.

  
“Thank you,” she said hastily, and stumbled from her stool. Make it outside, and she could run. She wouldn’t let him corner her - 

In one fluid motion, he slid in front of the doorway, blocking her path, hands tucked behind his back. He was dark haired and easily handsome, although most striking about him were thin, emerald eyes taking her in, poking and prodding for some sign to give her away as a target. His hands smoothed his silver and green uniform calmly. 

She blinked up at him, trying to seem polite.

“Hi, ma'am. May I buy you a drink?” 

_ No.  _

“I- no, sorry, but I don’t drink, sir.”

“Hm? Then perhaps someone to keep you company?” 

Firmly, she said,  _ “ _ I’m good, thank you. _ ”  _

She was afraid to offend him, as if that would give him a reason to hurt her. He didn’t seem to be injured by her rejection, simply cocking his head. 

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around Pikoro before, ma’am. What’s your name?” 

Her heart begged to flee. She couldn’t run. Not now. 

“I - uh - Mindy.” 

“ _ Mindy.”  _ He tested the name on his tongue. It sounded wrong, foreign, and with a flash of his emerald eyes, Aphmau was certain that he knew of her deceit.

But he simply bowed. “Surely there’s something a Jury of Nine guard can do for a lovely lady such as yourself?” 

She didn’t allow herself to show her fear. This was what Garroth and Laurance had warned her about - and were qualified to replace. This was the symbol of O’Khasis’ influence and power. 

“Jury of Nine?” She struggled to seem naive. 

“So you’re impressed,” the man said easily. “The title speaks for itself, eh? How would you feel about such a Jury of Nine Guard treating you to lunch?”

She felt horrible about it, as a matter of fact. But the man’s crooked smile cornered her against a wall and left her no other choice. Meekly, she nodded, allowing him to drag her away and watch him snap his fingers, using his most commanding voice to order her food.

_ Who are you…?  _

_ Should I be afraid of you?  _

He leaned back in his chair, smiling contentedly. “So. Miss Mindy… What brings you to Pikoro?” 

“I’m just passing through.”    
  


He raised his brow. “Interesting time to be passing through - not quite my idea of a casual stroll. O’Khasis guards basically run the city now.”

His voice suddenly seemed… bitter. It made her hesitate, questioning his motivations.

“Why?” she murmured.

“Ordered by the High Priest. Caused quite the mess, although I’m in no position to question my orders…” His eyes flashed.

“Don’t you like the High Priest?” she dared to ask. 

“I…” He hesitated, looked her up and down, then shrugged, lowering his voice slightly. “I’m one of the few who… disagrees with him… but then again, I’m one of the few who has someone depending on me, too.” 

She leaned forward, urging him to continue. 

“My little girl,” he said. “She’s the sweetest child you’ll ever meet.” 

He dug in the pockets of his sleek uniform and fished a crumpled picture from his wallet. The child was beaming; she had clearly inherited her father’s green eyes.

“I love her more than money, fame, life itself,” he murmured. “I’d do anything for my angel.” 

She didn’t want to trust him. She didn’t think she could. Hell, she didn’t even know his name.

But something about him reminded her of  _ Laurance.  _

Laurance, bonded so closely to young Malachi. Laurance, with his crooked grins and confidence, his charm, and his compassion for those close to him.

“What’s your partner like?” Aphmau continued, unable to shake the feeling that this man was so familiar. 

“My…? Ah. She, er- I don’t want to talk about that, I don’t think. Nor do you need that information.” He seemed to regain a shred of composure, straightening, eyes flashing. Aphmau immediately leaned back, trying to seem innocent. 

“I’m sorry,” she said hastily. 

“You’re fine,” he said, but she had the sense that she had shaken his confidence. “I - er - I must return to my shift. The water well won’t guard itself!” He took her brown hand in his own and kissed it. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mindy. If you’re ever in O’Khasis, ask around for me. I think you and my daughter would get on wonderfully.”

He shoved back from the table. 

“Good day.” 

And with that he strode away, leaving her sitting there helplessly, reeling from…  _ whatever that was. _

She tried to forget about it - but, somehow, her mind kept winding itself back to him. The mysterious Jury of Nine Guard that had talked - not as a stranger, but as an acquaintance. He had not accused her of any crime or hauled her away to Zane, if he had recognised her at all.

If he had, he hadn't acted on it.

He had a  _ daughter.  _ Someone he loved. 

She had imagined the Jury of Nine to be ruthless - merciless. Cunning, sharp, powerful. This man seemed  _ real  _ \- another citizen like herself, or her Guards. And she fought the feeling that she could have learned so much more about Zane, and the Jury of Nine, if she hadn’t brought up his partner.

_ Damn it. _

__

But yet he had left so quickly. To guard the well…

Why did the well need guarding in the first place? 

_ Poison.  _

It was the shittiest excuse she’d ever heard. The guards were hiding something - and she didn’t want to put the stranger in the middle of the mystery, but he was too tightly woven into it to ignore him. 

She had been too frightened of the O’Khasis guards to wrap her mind around it before. 

She needed to get to that well.

When Aphmau was alone, hidden away from the prying eyes of Pikoro, she took out the amulet, and with a shaky breath, she began to talk. 

“Garroth. I need your help.” 

* * *

“You made it back in one piece, then.” 

Laurance glared at Dante. A white petal clung to his hair, and Dante plucked it out suspiciously. 

_ What exactly happened out there?  _

“Shut up,” Laurance muttered. 

“Aw. Did you get in trouble? Or did you get  _ him- _ ” 

_ “Shut up, Dante.” _

Dante wasn’t exactly blind. That didn’t mean he was any less confused.

Garroth stomped behind Laurance, his amulet to his mouth, talking quickly. 

“Do you know which one?”

“No, I never had his name.” He could hear Aphmau’s voice, although muffled, as if she was struggling to keep her voice low, wherever she was. She seemed strained. “But - but Garroth, he - he had a child. A daughter.  _ He didn’t seem so bad _ .”

Laurance, standing next to Dante, stiffened slightly. 

“So are you gonna give me the gossip, or…?” Dante turned his attention away from Garroth’s conversation, raising his brow at Laurance.

“What?” 

“Had some fun out in the grass, did we?”

“I swear to Irene-” 

“I’m just saying-”

  
“Then we’ll have to get you to the - would you two  _ shut up!? _ ” Garroth shouldered past both of them and stomped out into the tall grass. “Sorry. We’ll get you to that well, don’t worry. It has to be important if it needs guarding.” 

“I hope so.”

Dante heard Aphmau’s voice flutter, hesitating. 

“Early tonight,” Garroth confirmed. “We’ll… draw the guards away.”

Their conversation droned on. Dante and Laurance sat quietly, and he felt slightly disgruntled from being scolded by the Head Guard. Laurance didn’t seem to care - of course he didn’t. He was probably used to that tone from Garroth; it would be all too familiar to him, getting into trouble.

Finally, Garroth half-threw the amulet back into his pocket, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t particularly feel like pissing off O’Khasis guards tonight.”

“Can’t we just… attract their attention from a distance?”

“With what weapons? The non-existent ones you pulled out of your invisible pockets?”

Dante flushed slightly. “I don’t want to get too close to those guards, is all.”

“Aphmau is depending on us.” 

“Why don’t you just send Laurance to flirt with them? They’ll follow him anywhere.”

“Thank you,  _ Dante _ , very helpful.” Laurance had the sense to look offended. “I highly doubt any of those guards are attracted to men, let alone  _ me.”  _

“As…  _ talented...  _ as Laurance is, I don’t think his  _ charm  _ is going to help us,” Garroth said. 

“My charm is  _ always  _ helpful, baby,” Laurance crooned. Garroth made a face of utter disgust. 

“Don’t make me bruise the other cheek.” 

“You give my face too much attention. How about-”

“Ohh- _ kay,”  _ Dante cut in hastily. 

No, Dante decided he would rather  _ not  _ know how Laurance was going to finish that sentence. 

“Neck, I was going to say neck,” Laurance protested.

“That’s awful.” 

“I’m not going anywhere  _ near  _ your neck,” Garroth growled. 

“Pity,” Laurance muttered, shoving to his feet. Dante sat, watching them both pace through the grass in frustration, bad moods sparking off each other. 

Laurance kicked a stone and sent it across the field. 

Then paused.  _ “That’s it.” _

Dante sat up. “What?”

“Rocks.” 

“Rocks?” 

He picked up another stone and turned it over in his palm, eyes burning. “We throw stones at the guards to lure them away.”

“Is that okay? For you?” 

Dante was startled by Garroth’s quiet question, eying the rock that Laurance was now throwing and catching lazily. 

“It’s for Aphmau,” Laurance said with a shrug. “Plus, I don’t mind if I’m hurting O’Khasis…” 

His gaze briefly met Garroth’s, then shied away. 

“That’s a  _ thief’s  _ plan,” Garroth blustered, as if trying to hide the idea that he had been concerned. 

“Luckily for you, I’m a master thief.”

“Will it work?” Dante interrupted, anxious to navigate the conversation back to something that he could understand.

“Well, let’s put it this way. When you have stones thrown at you, you either run, or fight back. Either way, they’ll be going away from what they’re guarding. I throw from one position, Dante throws from another, Garroth opposite one of us.”

“Split them up,” Dante said approvingly. He wondered what connection Garroth had made that he couldn’t comprehend. They already knew each other, had  _ history, _ months of fights and arguments that made their relationship… unique, to say the least. Dante felt crushingly alone. 

“We keep them occupied as long as possible,” Garroth said, slowly beginning to nod. “I hate to say it, but that’s quite clever.” 

“Obviously.” Laurance puffed out his chest. “Add that to my charm, and I’d say I’m the perfect match for you. Your idiocy, and my pure unfiltered amazing-ness.”

“Dream on,” Garroth sneered. “Come on, then. We prepare for nightfall.”

They spent the next hour in the pine forest, frantically hunting for small pebbles - if they  _ did,  _ by chance, hit a guard, it wouldn’t hurt as much as a jagged rock would. When dusk settled over them, and their pockets and jackets were heavy with their makeshift weapons, they paused beside a river to breathe before they faced Pikoro.

In one fluid motion, Laurance placed his jacket aside, threw off his shirt, and dove into the river. As he broke the surface, shaking out his wet hair like a dog, Dante sat on the bank, holding a pebble in his palm. 

“You idiot,” Garroth spat, but waded in to run water through his long curls nonetheless. 

Laurance dared to splash him, and Dante watched Garroth yell in protest, chasing the other man down the winding creek. 

“Come back here, you fiend!” 

“You’ll have to catch me, first!”

Dante gripped the pebble so hard his knuckles turned white.

Despite himself, Dante was  _ frightened _ . It had been too long since he had allowed himself to be close to anyone since Gene, and every part of him was terrified to allow that part of his life to sway his new connections. But Gene’s ghost would always haunt him. He did nothing without feeling spirits curled around him, slumbering, waiting for him to stumble to wake up.

Always waiting for him to fuck up.

With a shout of surprise, Garroth tackled Laurance, sending water spraying in all directions. They struggled, tangled together for a few moments, until Laurance tore himself free and spat out water, doubled over, breathless in his laughter. 

The sky burned, auburn and violet, the strokes deep and bold across the clouds. As the darkness settled over them, Laurance crawled out of the river, dripping wet and panting heavily. 

“I showed him,” he choked, massaging his throat. 

“Yeah. Definitely. Sure.”

Garroth hauled himself calmly onto the shore, hunting through his bags for something to dry himself with. Laurance simply glared at him. “I think I swallowed too much of that water.”

“Oops.”

“ _ Oops?”  _

And so it began again.

At some point, into the empty evening, while they sat listening to the crickets crying out into the quiet, waiting for the darkness to swallow them, Garroth cleared his throat.

“We did good,” he said. “Nice work.”

He deliberately made eye contact with Dante there, and whilst it was equally possible that he merely wanted to piss off Laurance, Dante felt as if that was a silent acknowledgement as a member of their party. 

_ You’re one of us, now. _

He supposed he should have felt immense pride, a delicious satisfaction. It should have been the perfect middle finger to Gene, to have the approval of Garroth, a  _ real  _ Head Guard that had worked hard and earned his position.

But where he wanted to enjoy that praise, he was instead filled with the overwhelmed notion that he really hadn’t achieved anything at all. 

* * *

Aphmau watched the first stone hit the well through the window of the Inn. The Inn Keep and his wife - who she supposed she’d owe a debt to for her beautiful dress, and their kindness - were upstairs, thankfully. She hadn’t planned to talk.

Just walk past, with her chin up, radiating such confidence that they would not dare to talk to her. Down the hallway, down the stairs, and she would be free.

Unsurprisingly, her act didn’t last long.

“It’s stupid,” old Amethyst said, looking Aphmau up and down. Her eyes crinkled in suspicion, but not unkindly. “A young traveler like yourself wouldn’t care about Pikoro matters.”

“Try me.”

After a heartbeat of hesitation, Amethyst said, “our precious new guards and the disappearance of our dear Lord were too close together to be coincidental. I’m… I don’t want to have to close the Inn. This is how we survive.” 

She knew this already, but it still startled her. The fate of the missing Lords seemed so broad that it ecompassed them all, but she had not paused to consider how O’Khasis would impact individuals. Families. Innocents and bystanders, just trying to survive. Was Aphmau hurting them in her quest for the truth?

“You won’t,” Aphmau assured her. “I’m sure it’ll all be sorted out.”

If it came down to it, would she hurt someone like Amethyst - or the Jury of Nine Guard she had met - to secure the future of the world?

“I hope so,” Amethyst breathed. “Business isn’t the best these days.”

“I’m sorry.” 

She hurried away before she could confess her plans, but her guilt chased her down the stairs. She almost missed the start of the plan, busy sweating in her own shame - an ugly crack against the cobblestones and a startled yell jolted her into action, pressing her face against the glass.

She couldn’t see who was throwing what, as multiple rocks flew from different directions. Her Guards were clearly aiming at the well rather than the men themselves, but it was enough to have them huffing in anger, striding to the outskirts of Pikoro in pursuit of the attacker. 

Two of them still lingered behind, their swords drawn, back to back. A pair of gangly teenagers, their eyes lit with terror. Aphmau’s heart jumped.

One of them looked like Zenix. 

Perhaps that was why it was Dante and Laurance to trot into the open, jeering at the guards. 

“Why don’t you do your jobs!?” 

“Fucking weedy little cowards. Come on!” 

When they refused to move, backed up against the well, Laurance threw a stone. Recklessly, stupidly. His aim was off.

It hit the boy barely above where his uniform curved away on his chest, and he cried out, pressing a hand to his neck.

“What the fuck!?” 

Laurance bolted and after a heartbeat of hesitation, Dante followed him. 

They boys gave chase, one of them cradling his neck with a hand. They shouted for revenge, and Aphmau supposed to them, they were looking at nothing but regular troublemakers. She burst outside as soon as they were out of sight, and she only prayed that her Guards would entertain them long enough for her to fulfill her task.

The Jury of Nine Guard was nowhere in sight. 

That, she guessed, was a good thing. 

She had allowed herself to be too kind, too accepting of him, after she had learned about his family, his lost wife. Did that make him any less of a villain? Could she even call him that? She didn’t know enough about the Jury of Nine to tell.

_ He didn’t seem corrupt.  _

With an anxious press of a button hidden on the inside of the well, the water began to drain. Loudly - too loudly. She jabbed her thumb on the button ten more times - just to be safe - begging it to go faster. She tried to swallow the idea of old, sweet Amethyst or her husband seeing her sneaking around under the cover of night.

Swearing under her breath, she crawled into the well and lowered herself into the water. Instantly, the murky depths sucked at her hips and she bit her lip. It was freezing underground; a cool breeze blew her hair into her face and she pulled her curls back into a ponytail, wading her way into a cold tunnel. 

The path was dimly marked with torches, all along the walls, illuminating cobbled paths on either side of the water. She hauled herself out of the dirtiness and walked, trying to ignore the water dripping onto the stones.

Too loud. Too much noise. She couldn’t creep when she felt heavy, sluggish, drenched to her hips in liquid. Any second now, she’d be caught. 

_ I’m dead. _

But no one confronted Aphmau as she felt her way along the wall to her right, stumbling along until her foot connected with nothing and she tumbled. She rolled down a set of stairs and hit the floor with a soft moan of pain, peeling her grazed cheek from the cobble. She bit back her curses. 

_ For Irene’s sake, be quiet.  _

A flash of flame interrupted her. Ahead of her, the cobblestone was stained with darkness. 

A tunnel, opening up. A pair of altars, side by side. Two bodies.

Yes, this was what she had been searching for.

Her legs aching from her fall, she awkwardly crawled half of the way, then stumbled to her feet and sprinted. 

The older man was unfamiliar to her - though she assumed that he was the Lord of Pikoro, but she knew Lord Burt all too well. His eyes were shut, arms folded over his chest, as if sleeping peacefully on the dark altar, immune to the walls glittering with flames all around them. 

She shook him, slapped him, begged with every part of her aching, raspy voice to awaken - but he was limp. His heartbeat still thudded within his chest - still alive - but trapped, somehow, in his body. 

_ Please, wake up. I didn’t get this far for nothing.  _

She had magick lassos to take them, certainly, thanks to Lucinda. But how would she wake them up? How would she cure this strange illness that suffocated them into slumber? Would Lucinda have the ability to reverse it? 

_ “You.”  _

The voice was deep, but reluctantly curious. 

The Jury of Nine Guard leaned against the wall of the tunnel, half of his face wreathed in shadow, so that only one emerald eye burned. In one hand, he held a golden sword, gleaming in the firelight.

“Me?” she managed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

“I knew you were familiar,” he mused. “A pretty dress can’t entirely mask your aura, or your face. You should hide your power better,  _ Mindy.”  _

_ Power?  _

She quietly began to pray to Irene. 

“But you - sir - you didn’t recognise me at the-” 

“My name is  _ Jeffory,  _ and don’t play dumb with  _ me.  _ You’re clearly a Lord, and just the one I need, too, it’s not difficult to realise. O’Khasis Guards may be stupid enough to pass you by… but  _ I. Am. Not.”  _

His voice grew sinister and he shoved from the wall, stalking towards her.

“Come with me, and I’ll have you off to Zane as soon as possible.” 

“I- I can’t let you- I have to help these Lords-” 

“No Lord truly wants to  _ help _ . That’s the thing about power, you see, missy.” His voice grew bitter. “That shit is inevitable. There’s no real reason for you to  _ help  _ these men.”

“I’m not that kind of Lord.”

“Oh? Not like  _ these  _ Lords? These stupid, lazy men, here? They’ll be the first sacrifices of many - you see, these alters are connected to the life force of our future  _ King _ , giving him power. He’ll make sure that  _ true  _ justice exists in our world. Not the way it does now.” 

He gestured helplessly around him, arms spread, and for a moment, Aphmau understood. It wasn’t the individual members of the Jury who were corrupt, no, but the Jury of Nine itself as a whole. It had been damaged. The morals of what was supposed to be a system of justice and nobility, their visions of a decent future, were deeply flawed and had been manipulated to a more sinister cause, and Jeffory was a glaring symbol of that. 

_ Garroth and Laurance were right. I shouldn’t have doubted them. _

“You can’t possibly think -” 

“You don’t get to tell me what I can’t do,  _ Lord.” _

Her hand drifted to where her dagger was hidden under her sleeve, sheathed in a leather pocket. It would waste precious seconds to draw it, moments in which Jeffory could easily disarm her and deliver a killing blow. 

_ Jeffory has a daughter. How can I hurt him!? _

“Your daughter!” she cried out. “Please, she- she wouldn’t-” 

He shoved her against the wall, hand against her throat. “You don’t get to speak about my daughter. You don’t get to bring my daughter into my _ job.”  _

“My- my friend has a child,” she spluttered uselessly, clawing at Jeffory’s arm. “A sweet little ghost child. He and another - another friend of mine - they fight. A lot. But they’ll do anything together for - for Malachi. They remind me - of you and -” 

His eyes flickered as he shoved her onto the floor, bending down, resting his hands on his knees to match her height. “I don’t have the time to listen to your useless tales. Leave my daughter out of-”

“Your daughter would  _ weep  _ if she saw you hurting the innocent! She’d  _ run  _ from you!” 

Jeffory froze.

The silence went on for too long. Even the fire seemed to still. 

Jeffory’s hand tightened around his blade. For a startling moment, Aphmau was certain that he would drive his sword into her heart, and flinched away from him. 

But he straightened. Stepped away. 

“Get out,” he said. His emerald eyes refused to meet her gaze. “Take your stupid Lords. Get out of here,  _ Aphmau,  _ before I change my mind.”

_ He knew my name all along. All that time, he  _ **_knew_ ** _. _

She swept the Lords up in golden, glowing lassos, watching their bodies be whispered away into some fabric of the universe, waiting to emerge again when she released them. With every shaking step, she expected Jeffory to lunge at her with that golden blade. To fulfill what he thought was his destiny.

At the end of the tunnel, she dared to glance over her shoulder. Jeffory was on his knees, as if praying, but she had the sense that it was not Irene that peered down on him. He lifted his head, and those emerald eyes were like a knife to the heart.

_ Get out. _

When she turned the corner of the tunnel, she ran. 

She knew that he had not moved, even as she blindly felt her way through the underground, searching for an exit. She knew that Jeffory would not go after her. 

In the dark, her frantically beating heart never relaxed. And in the shadows, when she turned, she couldn’t stop seeing those green eyes, stalking her out and into the unknown.


	30. episode thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No song today! I've had a bit of difficulty writing for loverman lately so I'm really trying to pick up my motivation! That's why this chapter might seem a bit messy or shorter than usual,, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy <3

Garroth heard her shrieks. 

She knew they had to be nearby, her loyal guards, but it was pure chance that her cry would erupt so close to where Garroth crouched. In the thick foliage, he had lost the guard. At some point, the hunter had become the hunted. 

He was distracted enough as it was. 

At the well, one of the younger men had turned his face slightly, the thin moonlight hitting his cheek, and strands of dark hair. 

Garroth’s hand was already on his sword, prepared to lunge when he deflated with a sense of… disappointment? That wasn’t Zenix. They weren’t really anything alike… but it was close enough. Those could be Zenix’s eyes - his irises before the Nether had trapped them in fire and smoke. It could be him. 

But something still made him hesitate. It wasn’t the dark, burning revenge he yearned for. It wouldn’t hold the same satisfaction to slit the young O’Khasis boy’s throat. Right?

His grip had tightened on the hilt of his sword. He hated himself for even considering it.

Across town, he had caught Laurance’s eye, and some silent agreement passed between them without Garroth even realising it. Laurance nudged Dante, and they moved to confront the pair of poor boys. 

When Laurance’s stone connected with skin, Garroth’s first thought was concern. 

Not for the boy, but for Laurance.

Garroth had seen the faint white dip on his hip. He didn’t want it to, but the image clung to him. 

He didn’t want to feel emotions like that - concern, worry - for someone like Laurance, and it was that which made him run into the woods, heart burning with silent fury. He had hesitated for too long, and wasted precious moments that he should have been using to distract the other Guards.

_ Come on, come on… _

He prayed that they hadn’t looped back around to the well, and were in the pines, hunting for him. They wouldn’t find him, but he prayed that they would be occupied enough to ignore Pikoro for the time being.

Aphmau’s scream suggested otherwise. 

It was not a shout of pure pain, or even terror, but merely a signal.

Begging for him, if he was nearby, to help. 

Garroth charged through the foliage, and if he was quiet, perhaps he would have heard Dante and Laurance taunting the young guards close by. He erupted from behind the group - three guards had cornered Aphmau against a pine tree. Her eyes widened only slightly, seeing him, but it wasn’t enough time to warn the guards of his presence. 

He felt safe knocking out the first two guards merely with fists and elbows, but as his hand went for his sword, he heard a heavy intake of breath behind him and felt arms wrap around his neck and pull, squeezing his neck. He writhed, hand fumbling for his sword.

_ No. Not like this-  _

The guard’s grip tightened. His breath was jerked out of him, as if the ground had erupted under his feet and he was falling, lungs filled with wind. He was scared, willing to do anything to save his own life. He couldn’t blame him, he thought with a bitter grimace. He’d do the same thing.

It was almost a shame to feel the blood spray against his chest. 

“Get off my guard,” Aphmau snarled, and shoved the man back. Just as he trusted her to. She pulled her dagger out of his chest, and his hand pressed at the wound as he stumbled, as if he could drag the blood back to him. Garroth stood, panting, massaging his neck, watching the guard crawl away. 

“You’re letting him live?” he finally said.

“He might bleed out,” she said awkwardly. She looked at her hands, her bloody palms, as if unsure of herself. But he knew, without a doubt, that if their roles had been swapped, he would have done the exact same thing.

For the first time, he allowed himself to study her. She was slightly scratched, her face grazed. Her eyes glowed with determination, but she was panting from her encounter with the guards. It had shaken her to stab the man, even if she didn’t want to admit it. 

“What happened?” He urged. “What happened under the well? Did you find-” 

She meekly lifted a pair of lassos, magically crafted by Lucinda. 

“Two?” 

“I’ll explain everything,” she promised. “Just… for Irene’s sake, get me out of Pikoro.”

“The others will be nearby,” he said hastily, taking her arm and leading her deeper into the pine forest. They had lingered for too long - by now, the wounded guard could have found by now, was bleeding into the stones at Pikoro. They’d be discovered soon enough. Aphmau, thank Irene, trailed him quickly, limping slightly. 

Even when his body was shielded by the tall grass - the same field where he had sat alone with Laurance - and they sat to wait for Laurance and Dante, he didn’t feel safe. He was vulnerable, exposed. He briefly considered taking Aphmau and leaving for Lucinda’s house.

Surely, Laurance and Dante would be able to survive on their own? They weren’t exactly weak, no matter how much he teased them saying otherwise. They were well trained, he had to admit.

Wouldn’t it be cruel to leave them behind?

Laurance wouldn’t shut up about it for months. He gritted his teeth. 

So he sat under the shelter of the moon, fighting the urge to leave with every quiet moment that passed them.

“Aphmau?” 

She lifted her head. “Hm?” 

“What happened to your face?” 

Had they missed a guard? 

But she merely flushed, avoiding his gaze. “Jeffory was there.”

“Jeffory…” His eyes widened slightly in realisation. “Jury of Nine, yes. He hurt you?”

His hand was on his sword, but she hastily shook her head. “No, no, it wasn’t… like that…  _ he let me go.” _

_ He showed mercy to her? Why?  _

How had she earned the trust of a Jury of Nine Guard?

“I… I, uh, actually fell down the stairs,” Aphmau managed.

That pressed a light chuckle out of him. “You seem to be making this a habit.” 

“Hush.” 

They heard footsteps in the long grass - Garroth recognised Dante’s blue hair bobbing over the field and stood, hand on his sword. 

Dante and Laurance both seemed relatively unharmed. He couldn’t understand the relief that settled in his stomach, seeing them alive and well.

“You’re safe.” It wasn’t a question.

“Indeed.” Laurance inclined his chin, daring him to continue, but Garroth scowled. He was done bending to Laurance’s will - he would not fold to his knees for that man.

“Let’s go,” Dante said hastily, far too eager to weave between them and guide them to their horses. Garroth guided Aphmau into a makeshift leather saddle and felt her slump against his back wearily. 

“Arms around my waist so you don’t fall off,” he ordered. 

Laurance straightened, knuckles white where he gripped the reins. 

“Jealous?” Garroth jeered. 

“You wish.” 

Dante snorted lightly. “This isn’t the time.”

“It’s  _ always  _ the time-” 

“Do you  _ want  _ to get caught?” Dante steered his mount away from them, in the direction of Lucinda’s house. Reluctantly, Garroth trailed him, navigating his mind back to the task at hand. He had lost his grip on his responsibilities - too many people depended on him for him to abandon his role now. His eyes narrowed. 

When Laurance opened his mouth again, calling out to Dante to praise him for one thing or another, Garroth turned his head away. He drowned the man out with his determination, the repeated vow droning on and on.  _ I can’t fail.  _

As they trotted down the path, Aphmau half-asleep against his back, he was alert for arrows to start flying, loud yelling and new pairs of hooves in pursuit. 

The night was quiet, save for the sounds of his own party. 

Laurance kept talking. His voice was growing erratic. 

“- and Dante - great aim - stellar shot. It was brilliant - it was -” 

“Shut the fuck up, for Irene’s sake,” Garroth snapped. Perhaps he would have said more, if Aphmau and Dante weren’t there. Would have explained himself. “That’s, uh… an order.”

Laurance recoiled slightly, then swallowed. His eyes gleamed. 

“Yes.” 

“Sir.” 

Laurance gritted his teeth. “So you weren’t kidding when you said-” 

He merely raised his eyebrow, and Laurance groaned. 

“Yes,  _ sir.”  _

_ Better. _

They broke through the thickest part of the pine forest, and as the trees thinned, Lucinda’s house peered over them, lopsided yet sturdy. 

Thank Irene, Garroth thought. 

“You know-” 

Laurance cut himself off. The light was on inside the house - waiting for them. Lucinda leaned against the doorframe, and out from behind her burst Malachi. 

Even Garroth couldn’t make fun of the delight captured across Laurance’s face, temporarily distracting him from whatever had plagued him since Pikoro. Garroth watched him stumble off his horse, on his knees in the gravel. Garroth watched Malachi crash into Laurance’s open arms. 

“You came back! You came back!” 

“Of course I did.” 

As complicated as things were, he couldn’t fight his reluctant nod of acceptance. That, if nothing else, he could live with. 

Garroth dismounted, and helped Aphmau down. She blinked herself awake, trying to focus. “We’re here?”

“That’s right. You did it.” 

“I did it…” She smiled slightly. Lucinda approached them, amber eyes glowing in the dark. 

“Look who’s back,” she mused, scanning them all. Her eyes fell on Aphmau’s grazed face. “Come here, flower, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

“But the lords…”

“ _ Lords?”  _ Lucinda said. “As in, more than one?” 

“Lord Burt, and… the missing Lord of Pikoro.”

Lucinda stiffened “Lord? Lord Luke? Is that his name?” 

Her voice grew in volume, disturbing Laurance and Malachi from their reunion. They had only been separated for a few days, but he supposed that any amount of time would feel too long for Malachi after being in their castle for so long. They glanced over, startled. 

Dante stiffened as Lucinda reared back, arms folded over her chest. “Tell me. Is that his name?” 

“I- I wouldn’t know,” Aphmau managed, hand tightening around Garroth’s wrist. 

“Stop it,” Garroth said roughly. 

“You can’t bring this… this  _ monster  _ into my house,” Lucinda snapped. “Not the Lord of Pikoro. He’ll think I - I kidnapped him! Imagine the - the trouble I’ll -”

Aphmau’s eyes filled with tears and Lucinda visibly hesitated. 

“Stop,” Garroth said roughly, guiding Aphmau into the house as she clutched the two lassos to her chest. “Not now.” 

“You can’t-” 

“These men need you.” 

“I don’t want  _ him  _ anywhere near me.” 

Garroth kept walking. “She didn’t work this hard just for this man to die now. Come on, Lucinda.” 

“Please,” Aphmau added drowsily.

That did it. 

Lucinda trailed them up the stairs, muttering panicked curses, but she didn’t stop them as they reached the top level. She’d do it for Aphmau, he knew, but if he alone had brought the Lord of Pikoro to her doorstep, she would have sent him away. He didn’t even understand what she hated about him - but only a personal connection to him could have erupted such a dangerous anger from within the witch. They had come for Lord Burt - Garroth hadn’t even expected Pikoro to need help, too. 

Logan was asleep, every breath rattling in his chest. 

Aphmau freed the pair of Lords and roughly slumped onto one of the beds. The rows of mattresses reminded Garroth of a hospital - he could even pretend that the herbs and potions were rough chemicals and dry medicine. 

  
  


_ “Talk to me,” he begged.  _

**_I just want my brother back._ **

_ Zane had one side of his hair curled over his eye, but Garroth had seen what he had done to him. His eye was only slightly paler, barely noticeable when Zane sat in the shadows like he always did, but in the sun it was pale red, struck, bloodshot.  _

_ He could understand why he wanted to hide it, that shred of weakness that Garroth had caused.  _

_ Garte didn’t want that vulnerability displayed so casually in public. And, besides, Zane was ashamed of it.  _

_ Even worse, he hated Garroth for it. That piece of him that bound him to his father had been damaged beyond repair.  _

_ “Please talk to me,” he begged, folding his arms on the blankets. They were in the mock hospital of the estate, lined with countless beds. Garroth had never needed to be in there before, as he had patched up any of his scrapes or fights himself, but the smell of chemicals burned his nose. _

_ Zane was cross legged, pointedly staring at the book in his lap. His right eye flashed slightly, but he didn’t break his gaze from whatever he was reading so determinedly. He had always been somewhat of a bookworm, and he found unrivalled delight in a decent library, but nothing had fueled his angry desires for literature like Garroth’s ‘betrayal’.  _

_ “I don’t want anything to do with you.” _

_ “Is that what father told you to say?”  _

_ Zane visibly hesitated. “No.” _

_ “I said I’m sorry! What more could I do?” _

_ “You could  _ **_leave me alone,_ ** _ for a start.” _

_ “Is that really what you want?” _

_ “Yeah.” He smoothed his hair. “Yeah, that’s it. Go away, Garroth. I just wanna read.”  _

_ Then, in a smaller voice, “I just wanna read.”  _

_ That was all he had wanted when Garroth had dragged him to play in the snow. And look how that had turned out. _

_ No, Garte hadn’t let him forget that incident in a hurry. It was burned into Garroth’s mind. _

_ That was part of the reason that he refused to come into the hospital. He knew he was tough, strong - admittedly, he was eager to prove himself. He enjoyed being the best. He liked fighting for his skill, not for his family name. And when he was beaten, the only person to carry him, support him, would be himself.  _

_ That was the way it had to be, he supposed. _

_ Zane didn’t enjoy spending time with him anymore; that would be his burden to bear for being a bad brother.  _

_ Because Garroth was certain, ultimately, that he was.  _

_ He had done this.  _

_ He left Zane to his book. _

  
  


In this makeshift, messy hospital, Garroth had people who cared. Didn’t he? He wasn’t brawling to prove his self worth, and he had other people to help heal his wounds now. Aphmau, blinking tiredly, leaning against his shoulder. She had helped him before. When Zenix had scarred him, she had wiped away the blood. Downstairs, he supposed that Laurance might have done the same, if he had known him then, although most likely with far more protests and cruel teasing.

Lucinda leaned away from the elderly of the two Lords with white hair; the other, Garroth recognised easily as Burt. In the lamplight, her amber gaze was conflicted. She clearly wanted nothing to do with the man, but yet…

She had given in, under Aphmau’s request. 

“Lucinda?” 

“Hm?” Her eyes narrowed. 

“What… exactly… is your relationship to this… Lord Luke?”

She hesitated, only for a moment to consider her options. 

“My father,” she finally muttered. “But a shitty dad.” 

Without his permission, his sympathy grew for her. He tried to bite back his words of comfort, but in the end he merely dipped his head slightly. She opened her mouth, as if to explain, but then thought better of it and bit her lip.

“Can you do anything for Lord Burt?” He directed his attention instead to the younger Lord.

“I - I don’t know.” 

Her eyes flickered, considering the pair. 

“Let me have them for the night. You can sleep downstairs.” She eyed Aphmau thoughtfully. “I think she might need a good rest.”

“We all do.”

Garroth hauled Aphmau into his arms and carried downstairs. He barely noticed a presence behind him until he had tucked blankets over her body and a cough came from behind him. Laurance leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

“What do  _ you  _ want?”

“That’s kind,” Laurance muttered. “I’ll just go, then. You’re not very fun when you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired, I’m worried.” 

Laurance simply raised a brow. 

“Alright, perhaps a little bit tired.”

A short, cold laugh. “Thought so.”

They fell into awkward silence, and Garroth thought he hated that more than talking to him in the first place. The quiet allowed his mind to wander beyond what his permission allowed. He curled his hands into fists, desperate to find something, anything, to bring him back to his usual self. 

“Was today difficult?”

_ Not  _ **_that_ ** _.  _

But Laurance had already grasped that tangent and was letting it carry him onwards. He swallowed, and nodded briefly. His inability to stop babbling the entire ride home had proven that much to Garroth. “Well, it certainly wasn’t… I didn’t enjoy throwing rocks at young boys, no. Not my proudest moment. But it’s for Aphmau, so…”

He hesitated, then lifted his chin. “But I suppose you’re not any better off.” 

He was trying to steer the conversation away from himself. Garroth blinked. “Yeah.”

He felt as if he was missing something. 

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, surprising himself.

“For what?” 

_ You know what.  _

He just wanted to hear the words.

“If it came down to it, I don’t think I could have hurt that young boy that… that looked like Zenix. I wouldn’t be able to do it. So thank you, for taking over. The  _ only  _ time you get authority in this group.”

“Heh… that’s what makes you a shitty guard,” Laurance mused, laughing when Garroth gave a noise of irritation. “Kidding.”

“Not funny.”

“What I mean is… that’s what holds you back. When that fateful day comes, to protect your Lord… if your opponent is someone you love. Someone close to you. Someone you trust. You won’t take that blow.”

It seemed like an accusation. 

“No,” he agreed wearily. “I won’t.”

It was even more terrifying to admit, but it startled him that Laurance hadn’t coaxed the confession from him, but rather taunted it out of him. Even Laurance seemed surprised, as if he had expected a witty comeback but had received more than he had bargained for. 

They both had those chains, holding them back. Garroth wanted to break his - and he knew Laurance did, too. 

Half of the time, he felt as if he was dangling over the edge of the cliff alongside him, waiting to see who would take the plunge first. Who would let themselves taste the sky first? 

“Come on,” he said, beckoning to Laurance. “I’m going to pass out if I stay here any longer. You’re just  _ that  _ boring.” 

“ _ Puh-lease.”  _

Their bickering echoed on through the night, even after they were asleep, feeling their ghosts continue their silent battle. 

  
  



	31. episode thirty one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for today is Everything Moves by Bronze Radio Return!!! Thank you so much for sticking with me through 100k words of loverman <3333 I appreciate every reader so so so much! Hope you're having a good day today <3

_ “Hold still.”  _

_ He was sick of fighting. The Nether’s taunting rumbled on, and on, and on, an eternal thunder. So he did not struggle when Garroth’s hand closed around his throat. If anything, he welcomed it. It was easier to tell, now, what was a dream and what was… not. Some part of his reality always found a way to weave itself into his nightmares, but he was somewhat aware of himself through it all now.  _

_ He knew his name. And he knew himself.  _

_ He tried to shake himself awake, but could not, and so he was forced to endure Garroth’s punishment.  _

_ Tonight, he even had the energy to seem flippant with it all. As if whatever shattered Goddess that controlled his dreams would hear him and somehow be offended by his relaxed nature. He had learned by now that she wouldn’t care about his pleas. Begging wouldn’t work on her. So why not entertain himself?  _

_ Perhaps it was also because, now, he found dream Garroth’s attempts of murder laughable. As real as it felt, as vivid as the pain felt, he felt reassured by the fact that Garroth was too much of a coward to do anything like it in the living world.  _

_ “You’re getting creative,” Laurance said coyly. “Perhaps I’m not giving you enough credit.” _

_ “I’m going to cut you open.” He forced a smile as Garroth’s expression didn’t shift; in his tanned hand, he gripped a jagged rock.  _

_ Laurance fought away the fear.  _

_ “Oh, yeah?”  _

_ His grip on his neck tightened. _

_ “I wouldn’t get so cocky with me.” _

_ “You can’t do anything to me.” _

_ “Can’t I?” _

**_No. You can’t._ **

_ That didn’t make it hurt any less. His body knew how to simulate a sense of terror as real as if the blood was spilling while he was awake. Garroth’s hand did not shake as he gently dragged the rock down his cheek. The surface was cold, making him shudder, and he felt Garroth’s hand connect against the side of his head.  _

_ “Stay fucking still!”  _

_ “I-” He gritted his teeth. _

_ The jagged point of the stone was reminiscent of a blade. He could convince himself that it was only a dream, could pinch himself, but he couldn’t trick himself out of the pain. Could he? _

_ “What do I hate most about you? What to destroy today?” Garroth considered him, eyes roaming over his body. His eyes fell on his side, and with gentle fingers, he lifted Laurance’s shirt.  _

_ “What do you think you’re doing?” he blustered. “I know I’m hot, but damn, buy me dinner first!” _

_ Garroth didn’t react. “You aren’t getting what you want.”  _

_ His eyes fell onto the pale white dip on his side, barely grazing the top of his hip.  _

**_No. Not there. Anywhere but there._ **

_ “I think I’d prefer the neck, honestly,” he blabbered hastily, gripping Garroth’s wrists. “Far more attractive, wouldn’t you agree?” _

_ “Shut up,” Garroth snarled, and the rock slammed into him.  _

_ Cracking away at what was left of that scar. Watching the blood well from his dark skin with quiet delight.  _

_ Another wet crack. He felt it splinter his skin, and despite himself, he couldn’t fight his low cry of pain. He tried to muffle it, biting his lip until he tasted blood.  _

_ No, he couldn’t bluster his way out of the pain.  _

**_I know who I am._ **

**_I’m fine._ **

**_I’m fine._ **

**_I’m…_ **

**_I’m..._ **

_ He refused to beg for it to end. No one would be that kind.  _

_ It seemed as if the ugly, jagged sound of the rock was splintering in his skull. Cracking him open. It was messy. Garroth’s gestures were wild, erratic. Lifted his hand. _

_ Let the blow fall. Let the blood spray.  _

_ Hear him sob and writhe and pray.  _

_ He told himself that he would not be afraid. He was better than this pathetic shell, curled on the ground, begging to be spared.  _

_ He opened his mouth to cry out, and was met with an empty, angry silence. _

_ Hands grasped his shoulders.  _

  
  


“Get up-  _ get up-”  _

He only saw blond curls hovering over him and blindly struck out. His hand connected with a tanned cheek. Garroth’s sharp blue eyes were framed in shards of sunlight as he grappled with Laurance, swearing under his breath. 

“Would- you- stop- that-” 

It took him too long to understand. To stop fighting. He went limp, head falling back onto his thin pillows, and Garroth sat back. 

There was only a phantom pain against his side, nothing real, as if a ghostly breeze had brushed up against his scar. Garroth’s hands were bare as he grabbed his wrists - no rock.

He was not being punished. 

“You-” 

“You were making a stupid amount of noise, thrashing around like that,” Garroth snapped, running his hands through his hair. His cheeks were faintly pink.

For a moment, he was startled into silence. He was at Lucinda’s house. Safe. “You actually woke me up.” 

“I… I  _ did  _ make a deal, remember?” 

“I wasn’t expecting to hold you to that.” 

“ _ You _ may be lazy, but I actually uphold my promises.”

“How endearing.” He sat up, gripping his ragged hair in his hands, taking a deep breath. “Er… sorry for hitting you.”

“You’ve done worse,” Garroth said gruffly. 

Laurance waited for Garroth to stand and leave, tired of him and his arrogance, but for once, he seemed reluctantly curious. “So… what was it tonight?”

Laurance debated ignoring him completely. 

_ That’s none of your business.  _

But he surprised himself by saying, “you.” 

“Me?” 

It was worth it, just to see Garroth so severely uncomfortable. He swallowed heavily, then said, “how  _ sweet.  _ Your obsession with me only grows.”

“Oh, don’t look so smug. You were cutting me open, jackass, I wouldn’t be proud of that.”

Garroth froze. “Cutting you open?” 

“Indeed.” 

“What the-” 

“Well, not cutting, per say. More like… stabbing repeatedly. I think you mentioned wanting to cut me open, but you woke me up before I got to experience that, so… that’s a relief.”

“With a  _ rock?”  _ Garroth grimaced. 

“Unfortunately so.” 

Garroth hesitated for too long. His eyes glowed with sympathy, but when he opened his mouth, it was not empathy that spilled out. “The dream version of me is an idiot if he thinks that’s the best way to make you suffer.”

Garroth seemed surprised at himself, as if he hadn’t intended to be cruel. 

Laurance barked out a startled laugh. He shoved Garroth aside, hunting through a pile of clothes for a sweater. “Oh? And I suppose  _ you  _ know better?”

“I dare say I do.” 

Garroth’s gaze flickered over him, and Laurance swallowed. He didn’t know why he was suddenly afraid - perhaps because he had always assumed that he was safer in the living world than in his dreams. He had always been so confident that Garroth wasn’t a  _ real  _ threat. Difficult to handle, sure, but they weren’t exactly trying to kill each other anymore. 

Now, he hesitated. 

Laurance threw his sweater on hastily. He had lured himself into thinking that he would be safe around Garroth. They would keep each other accountable. Now, he was struggling to see through a thick haze coating Garroth in warning signs. 

_ What was I thinking?  _

Making deals with a Ro’meave? Teasing him, laughing with him as if they were walking the same path, sharing stories and memories as if something to  _ bond  _ over! It couldn’t be allowed. Garroth was a symbol of everything Laurance hated - he couldn’t like that.

If they had met as children, Laurance could vividly see what would have happened. 

He would have roamed the streets of O’Khasis as a stray, a rogue, if he had been born there. And, being himself, he would have inevitably gotten so attached to the shy, contemplative blond Ro’meave prince. A rich boy, hiding from his father. A misfit in his own family - Laurance, without a family at all. He wanted to believe that they could have been unlikely friends, bonding over their oddities. 

But no. Garroth would have thrown stones at him.

Even if he didn’t want to, if his father squeezed his shoulder hard enough in silent command, he would grit his teeth and do it. Laurance couldn’t even blame him for it. 

_ That’s just the way things have to be.  _

_ I can’t change that.  _

He shook himself out of that fantasy. His fingers tightened on his sweater. He was already cursing himself for so much of that morning - not wearing his armour,  _ just in case,  _ allowing Garroth to come close to him. 

Garroth straightened. He tied his curls back into a bun, hesitating briefly. “Er… perhaps that was out of li-” 

Laurance left him there, cutting his apology short. His hands kneaded into his sweater as he walked. He didn’t have the energy or strength to listen, and Garroth didn’t follow him. His duty beckoned to him, and for once, he shoved aside his desire to breathe the wild air and escape into the forest. Return to that beautiful field. He fought the burning instinct rumbling inside him and jogged upstairs. 

He wanted to turn around. Surely, he had some kind of witty comeback, sarcasm quick on his tongue to hurl back at Garroth? Where was the arrogant, cocky persona that everyone hated? But he was at a loss.

_ Forget it.  _

_ Forget him.  _

There was no one but himself, and the truth, and that scared him more than he wanted to admit. 

* * *

Aphmau had slept late, curled in Lucinda’s bed, blankets hastily thrown over her. The sun was lazily beating at her face through the open window, an indignant bird song echoed in the distance. It took every shred of her self control not to scream when she found Lucinda sitting at the end of her bed, hands folded in her lap. She barely reacted when Aphmau sat up.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, when no one spoke. “For, uh. Stealing your bed. Among other things.” 

Lucinda pursed her lips. “I know you… you, uh, need my skills. You need  _ me _ . That’s the only reason that  _ he’s  _ allowed in my house.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she swore. “Thank you for doing this for me. You know I really didn’t - I don’t want to - hurt you.”

“It’s fine. Just...” She hesitated. Her eyes flickered over Lord Luke. “Just know that whilst you are required to be diplomatic, I have no such vow. I’m no Lord. I’m not involved with politics. This is personal, and I won’t pretend like it isn’t.”

“What did he do to you?” 

Aphmau studied the old man. In sleep, he seemed peaceful, unburdened by responsibility. She envied him, only for a brief moment, before scolding herself. She had to be grateful for what she had earned and collected on her journey. But, she supposed, she had never known the man like Lucinda had.

“He…” The woman hesitated, looking anywhere but at Aphmau or Lord Luke. She inspected her fingernails, searching for an answer. “I told you why Malachi couldn’t go to Pikoro.”

“They’re a strict city. People in power are prejudiced about… magick, for a start. That’s why,” she recalled.

“And witches,” Lucinda said miserably. “I’m worth nothing in that stupid town. When my father found out that I was a witch, like mom, he…” 

“Lucinda.” She threw back her blankets, expressing murmurs of sympathy. She had never known her parents. Would never know, probably. But, she thought, it would be horrible to endure suffering from a parental figure. No one deserved that - certainly not Lucinda. 

Beautiful, charming Lucinda, who she admired so much and slightly envied, was struggling to find words. 

“He… he threw me out like I was nothing. That man  _ abandoned  _ me.”

“You don’t deserve that.” 

Her eyes narrowed towards Lord Luke, trapped in his slumber. “I… was  _ exiled _ . If he wanted me out of his life so badly, he should have just killed me right there and then. But no. He wanted me to suffer.”

“I’m sorry.” 

She placed her hand upon Lucinda’s shoulder, her thumb making comforting strokes across her dark, dappled skin. Her amber eyes glowed.

“I shouldn’t let my… my problems get in the way of your quest. I want you to succeed, Aphmau, really, I do. But… I don’t want him in the place I worked hard to earn, and protect.”

“It’s not for long,” she swore, hating the words as soon as they were out. “As soon as we know what’s wrong, I’ll make sure you never have to see him again. Unless it’s on your own terms.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t do promises.” Lucinda got to her feet, dislodging Aphmau’s grip. She folded her hands in her lap anxiously. 

“Ah.” 

“But… I think I could make an exception for a pretty girl.” 

Aphmau swallowed, deliberately skirting the compliment, although she was certain that she was blushing slightly. “I won’t break it.”

  
“... See that you don’t.” After a heartbeat of hesitation, she carried on. “Are your boys awake yet?”

She had taken to calling Aphmau’s guards that. As if she was merely some kind of matron guiding them through life. Although, she reflected, seeing the way they bickered, they  _ were  _ her boys in a way.

“Probably,” she said. “I guess guards have to get up early, even when their Lord is an idiot and sleeps in.” 

“If they have a problem with the idiot sleeping after a long night, they can go through me. I’m not afraid of their fancy swords.”

“I think they  _ might  _ actually be scared of you.”

“How ridiculous,” she said, with a coy smile. “Why would that be?”

“I could name a few reasons.”

“Unless they all begin with  _ ‘Lucinda is gorgeous and therefore extremely intimidating’ _ , I don’t want to hear them.”

“Shame,” Aphmau muttered. She tried to mimic Lucinda’s cool, poised expression, and burst into stifled laughter. 

“What’s so funny!?” 

Lucinda had the nerve to look briefly offended, but even she couldn’t suppress her giggles. Aphmau didn’t want to laugh - she had so much to do, such little time to achieve everything expected of her. But, she decided, she also needed to. It was those tiny pieces of joy, those blissful memories, that kept her steady through her struggles. 

They kept her alive. 


	32. episode thirty two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for today is Flesh and Bone by Keaton Henson!!! Thank you for being patient, I know it's been longer than usual since the last update, I'm sorry!!! My motivation is still a little low so it's only a Dante chapter tonight <3<3

_ Through it all, Dante kept holding his amulet. Fingers white, thumb stroking the metal. _

**_I’ll come fight the monsters away._ **

_ Where was Gene, coming to kill the monster? Who would vanquish the only monster in the room? All he could feel were the walls shuddering, closing in on him. Begging for him to do something. Anything.  _

_ When would Gene save him?  _

_ Gene was trapped. He was chained on a platform in the middle of the room. He could have swept his gaze around the chairs circling him, and the people sitting around him, watching with restrained discomfort. He could have directed his utter hatred towards his Lord - it would have been easier that way.  _

_ But those dark eyes never flickered away from Dante.  _

_ Pinning him down. Dante was practically as trapped as his brother, sitting there helplessly. _

_ Even as the Lord leaned forward, gaze burning with fury, announcing the crimes that Gene had committed, he never broke his stare. His message was clear - _

_ It was Dante’s fault. _

_ He barely heard the judgement through a dull ringing in his ears, a steadily rising panic, swelling up through him. It was so cold in the hall. _

_ So cold.  _

_ His darling, his beloved, the lover that he had tried so desperately to make love him, sat behind her father. Her eyes were merciless. _

_ The ringing in his ears rose into a roaring.  _

_ It had taken Dante hours of pacing across his old room, the amulet tight in his grip the entire time, for him to come to a decision. Hours of his mind racing, bumbling through every option. What would Gene do, if it came down to it?  _

_ He wanted to think that Gene would be honourable. If Gene had witnessed something… bad… he would confess, right?  _

_ He would do the good thing.  _

_ But Dante was not in the same world that he had thought he grew up in for years. This was not, as Gene would say, his precious fantasy world.  _

_ This was reality. And Gene was not good. He was not the hero. He would not swoop in to save Dante - in this story, he would not be the protagonist.  _

_ Not this time.  _

_ If Gene had seen himself trying to erase the life and memories of his lover, he wouldn’t do the good thing. He’d lie. He’d cheat. He’d save himself, using whatever deceit necessary.  _

_ Dante wanted so badly to be like his brother, to live up to his example. To save Gene, he would do anything.  _

_ That was what he had told himself. And repeated, over and over, until it was simply the truth.  _

_ He assured himself that he would never say a word about what he had seen. Gene would do the same for him in a heartbeat. _

_ But no matter how much he wanted to believe it, his feet had still carried him to his knees before the Lord of Boboros. He had still spent every part of his broken breath swearing on his own life that his brother was a traitor. And that, if they monitored him for the next few nights, Gene would return to Nessa to finish what he had started. To reclaim his true love. _

_ He was right.  _

_ They hadn’t wanted to trust him. After all, Dante was only a snivelling, bumbling kid, the awkward and gangly brother to a well respected guard. They had barely noticed him before he had information for them. He was only worth anything as long as he was useful.  _

_ He had betrayed his own blood. And now every bone in him begged to take it back, somehow, to fix it. But everything was unravelling before his very eyes. He couldn’t piece his words back together.  _

_ So cold. The chill in the hall seized him, kept him in a tight grip, frozen to his seat.  _

_ “A traitor to Irene, and a traitor to me,” the Lord was spitting.  _

_ Dante’s stomach rolled over.  _

_ “Forgive me-” _

_ “I see no reason to forgive you. Or listen to anything you may want to say.” _

_ “I can explain - my brother - I don’t know what he told you - fabricating these filthy lies, but you  _ **_know_ ** _ me. You know I couldn’t- wouldn’t - I’m an honourable man.”  _

_ Dante felt that accusation shatter his control. Didn’t Gene even want to  _ **_try?_ **

_ “I have difficulty believing that.” _

_ “My brother-”  _

_ “Told us the  _ **_truth_ ** _. Interesting, what a young, innocent mind can reveal.” _

**_Innocent?_ **

_ Dante’s lip trembled.  _

_ “I…” _

_ “Dante.” Gene’s voice was dark.  _

_ “Not another word!”  _

**_“Dante.”_ **

_ Dante couldn’t tell if it was pleading or a vow.  _

_ Or both.  _

_ “Guilty,” the Lord snarled, “of all charges. You’ll be punished as any other traitor would be.” _

_ Dante didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. What did his Lord do to traitors? _

_ “And, after all, your sentence should be perfectly understood. You’ve been the head guard for so long…” A cruel, angry smile.  _

_ Gene said nothing.  _

_ If Gene was exiled from Boboros, Dante would be alone with his own mind and shame, knowing that he had been the one to send him away. He would have no one to fix his bad hair-cuts, no one to comfort him when the world seemed a little too loud for him.  _

_ The Lord gestured to Gene with an angry hand. _

_ “Out of my sight.”  _

_ A man clad in black stood, an axe swinging by his side, and strode down to the platform where Gene was curled, body chained to the floor. Finally, he broke his stare away from Dante, and he felt himself stir as if released from a tight ghostly grip. He jolted to his feet suddenly.  _

**_You can’t send him away._ **

_ His child’s heart did not understand. It was fumbling with the truth. _

**_Exile. Exile. Right?_ **

_ A soft hand gripped Dante’s shoulder and hauled him back, up the stairs. Through a foggy haze, he took in Nessa’s features, her warm eyes blurred by tears, and her hand was tight around his arm.  _

_ “Get out of here, Dante. This isn’t something you- you can-”  _

_ “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?” he begged. “You’ll keep him safe?” _

_ She sucked in a frantic, shaking breath. He was almost to the door, but he still found the courage to turn. Perhaps, if they’d had more time, she would have thanked him for saving her from Gene’s power. Time was the one thing that Dante never had. The one thing that would creep out from under his feet until he was standing on empty air.  _

_ From a world away, he saw the man - no, the devil, that executioner - lift his axe.  _

_ No. Not exile. Not for him. _

_ Dante came to that startling truth, and like a coward, he did nothing with it. He couldn’t move in his panic, his mind a careless jumble of pleas. _

**_Do something. Anything! Anything at all-_ **

**_No. No. No._ **

_ Gene never tore his gaze away from his brother. _

_ “Gene! Gene!”  _

_ Gene was chained. He couldn’t be his own hero the way he had fulfilled that role for Dante - no matter what he did, how he lied and cheated, nothing could erase that. Dante couldn’t just forget that so easily.  _

_ Dante had to be the hero, for once. _

_ “Stop! Stop! Gene!”  _

_ Nessa grabbed him by the waist and tugged him through the door, hauling him outside. “Get- out of here- Dante!”  _

_ He hated himself for crying, letting his tears dribble down his cheeks helplessly. Gene would tell him to stop, to pull himself together. _

**_You’re better than that._ **

_ His amulet dangled helplessly on his chest, beating over his heart.  _

**_I’ll save you._ **

_ He writhed in Nessa’s grip as she dragged him. He wriggled onto the pavement and clawed helplessly, trying to crawl himself by the fingernails, even as Nessa pulled him back. Trying so desperately to keep him away from the door. _

_ “Gene! I’m coming!”  _

_ He was screaming out for his brother, begging for the amulet to protect Gene from the monsters - and he was still screaming when he heard the axe fall. _

  
  


* * *

He hadn’t realised he was daydreaming. To him, every piece of the past, every shattered memory felt like a nightmare that he would never shake off. He was clutching at what pieces of that day he could remember. After so many years, it seemed to fade. The details would always slip away from his grasp. All he could collect was what was obvious - Nessa, trying desperately to keep him away, and the gleam of the axe only moments before Gene’s death. He never saw it fall - although, thanks to Nessa, that was for the best. But he heard. 

He heard. Some days, he thought that was worse. He was always chasing that elusive closure, and thinking about how he had never even said goodbye - how Gene had died thinking that Dante had been the one to kill him. Died with the hatred of his brother still burning in those dark eyes. 

And through all of his teenage years, even after that dreadful, smoky night, he would never shake the feeling that he was the only one to blame. He still had his amulet, sure, a symbol of the childhood he so desperately missed but cherished at the same time. But through the years, he had come to the startling conclusion that  _ he  _ was the villain. He was the monster. And he had to protect others from that.

They had met out on the grass, Aphmau reappearing from inside Lucinda’s house, trailing Laurance who had gone to find her, with her lips pursed. Dante wasn’t quite dazed enough to be able to ignore Garroth and Laurance shooting glares at each other across the group, Laurance’s gaze burning above Malachi, who was in his arms, watching with alert eyes. 

“Lord Luke woke up,” she announced, puffing her chest out with a certain authority, as if she was suddenly sure of herself. It must have taken a weight off of her, to have a Lord wake from the strange slumber that trapped them, but her lips still trembled slightly. Something was still worrying her. 

Dante figured that, the longer he looked at her, the less he was considering himself, the less he was doubting himself and succumbing to his daydreams and memories. Distracting himself with her worries made his own flood away. He leaned forward. “So? Is he okay?” 

“He’s fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly. 

“He’s not…? Er…  _ dead,  _ is he?”

“No, no. Lucinda just wanted some time alone with him.”

“Ah.” 

Talking about family was too close to what he wanted to avoid. Eventually, Aphmau would realise she knew nothing about him - a suspicious lack of information about  _ him,  _ or his childhood or upbringing. She opened her mouth to continue, but Laurance held up a hand. 

“I have something to say,” Laurance said. 

Dante sagged in silent relief. 

“Hm?” 

“Aphmau, tell me again what you saw when you found the Lords.” 

She did, describing in detail the alters, the obsidian and the fire. Dante had planned to pretend to pay attention anyway, but the image of the lords in the sinister hall tugged him away from his memories. He had to get out of his own head if he wanted to be a guard, and a good one, at that. 

Lauence’s expression shifted as she talked, from wariness to pure discomfort. His gaze darkened. As he shifted, his shoulder brushed Garroth’s, and he jumped slightly. 

“It’s only me,” Garroth hissed under his breath. “Stop being so weird.”

“I’m-” 

Dante didn’t miss that, even if Aphmau did. Her attention was so focused on recalling that place under the well in Pikoro. “Well?” she said, finished. “Is that…?” 

Laurance turned his shoulder on Garroth, facing Aphmau. “I don’t want to say I’m sure. But… that sounds suspiciously like a Shadow Knight ritual.” 

“Oh.” 

There was a sudden, startled silence. Dante felt a dark pressure on his chest. He didn’t want to hear about Shadow Knights, or the lives they left behind. That was the first time that he stared at Laurance in quiet surprise, not curious about his time in the Nether but…

_ Doubt.  _

And even barely suppressed anger, too. Bitterness. Laurance wasn’t so bad. He was hot-headed, sure, but Dante could be too. So why had he been lucky enough to escape the Nether - to resist his complete transformation? What made Laurance more worthy, more deserving of that than Gene? 

He swallowed his bitterness. He didn’t know the full story. 

“I’d know,” Laurance said awkwardly, chuckling, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. Perhaps he was unnerved by Garroth, who Dante expected to attack him right then and there, but simply leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “I remember.” 

_ You don’t have to keep talking.  _ Dante narrowed his eyes slightly.  _ Stop.  _

“It seems scarily similar to the ritual I’m familiar with, but… it should be impossible. The Shadow Knights are all trapped in the Nether.”

Dante smoothed down his shirt, trying to seem as if he wasn’t suddenly clinging to every word. “Oh?” 

“A ceremony shouldn’t be possible here…” 

“But you’re a Shadow Knight. And you’re here.” Aphmau put a hand on his arm, as if she had to pull him back to reality as his eyes clouded.

“There could be a Shadow Knight in Pikoro.” But even as he said it, Dante felt a drumming burst to life around him, a steady beat of panic, and he fought the urge to run. His fingers instinctively curled into his hair, smoothing down his own curls.

Laurance seemed equally uncomfortable, and Dante could understand why. He imagined he liked to live life without a reminder of what he had endured in the Nether, as unfamiliar as it was to Dante, it would have been… a struggle. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Garroth said sharply, peering at Laurance, but it didn’t feel… as aggressive as usual. Dante couldn’t interpret the meaning behind it until Laurance visibly sagged. 

“Headache.”

When had Garroth been able to read Laurance so easily? He supposed that glaring at him so often, monitoring him, he was used to recognising his pain, but it still made Dante curious about what  _ exactly  _ they felt for each other. Perhaps that was a thing that enemies understood, that mutual reluctance to accept each other but ability to  _ know  _ each other. 

Dante was suddenly struck with the peculiar sense of incoming danger. He sifted through Aphmau’s description of her time under the well, trying to locate what seemed wrong. Surely, they couldn’t be so lucky to escape with both Lords without any more trouble?

“I’m sending for Azura,” Garroth said quietly. “I’ll let her know that we found Burt… I’m sure she’ll be relieved.”

“And delighted to see you, I’m sure,” Laurance sneered. 

“ _ And  _ we need to discuss an alliance.”

“And her giant crush-” 

“You’re lucky you already have a headache, because I’ll be giving you another if you keep talking.” 

Malachi giggled into Laurance’s chest, and whatever cutting reply he had on his tongue was quenched by the desire to keep his child safe. Garroth hesitated, then turned away, refusing to say another word. 

  
Dante, who was still turning over the threats in his mind, sat up suddenly. 

_ What was the one unpredictable variable in Aphmau’s escape?  _

Jeffory,” he said, and all eyes were suddenly on him. He shrank under their gazes, but tried to look Aphmau in the eye. “I mean - he let you go.” 

“He was going to take me to Zane. He would have, if I hadn’t mentioned his daughter.”

“Well,” he managed. He had practically been raised on tales and legends, and the story of Jeffory was one he had almost forgotten. Almost. “He does have a heart of gold after all.”

At Aphmau’s look of conclusion, he glanced at Garroth, as if asking permission to continue. But the older guard merely inclined his head, and Dante continued hastily. “That’s his title. Jeffory the Golden Heart. Every member of the Jury’s title reflects their best known attributes, and Jeffory… well, it’s his enchanted golden weapons that earned him that name. His sword is his ‘heart’, although I suppose that’s up to interpretation.” 

Aphmau’s brown eyes narrowed; she was clearly familiar with his golden weapons. 

“You mentioned his daughter to get away? When did he… how do you know about…” 

“He told me. At lunch.” 

Laurance and Garroth exchanged skeptical glances. 

“When you join the Jury, it’s expected for you to leave your old life behind,” Dante explained. “You don’t talk about your family, your friends, your personal life. Nothing. It’s strange that he’d even… tell you about his child without a care in the world.”

“You speak as if you’ve been in the Jury yourself,” she said, but her voice was strained. “It sounds… scary, to abandon everything you love.”

With a light crack of thunder overhead, it began to rain, but no one moved to find shelter. Laurance wrapped his jacket tighter around Malachi, shielding them from most drops. He lifted his chin, letting the rain spatter his cheeks. Almost reluctantly, Garroth held his own jacket over his head.

“That is  _ so sad.  _ Serious discussion, here, and you’re worried about your  _ hair?  _ Typical.” 

“Shut up,” Garroth muttered. 

After a moment of awkward silence, Aphmau said, “Jeffory told me that he thinks the Jury is corrupt. He… didn’t seem very fond of Zane.”

“He’s not the only one,” Laurance muttered. 

“And he’s not wrong about the Jury,” Garroth added, eyes darkening at mention of his brother.

No one seemed to know what to say about Jeffory, but the fear had all been planted in their minds. Would Jeffory go after them? He had let Aphmau go once, but his empathy might not last long. No one seemed sure - he was unpredictable. 

“Maybe he wants to leave the Jury,” Dante suggested hopefully. 

“Good luck to him,” Garroth grunted. 

No one wanted to say that Jeffory was already doomed, but Dante guessed that they were all thinking similar things.

“Azura will be here tomorrow, most likely.” 

Laurance lowered Malachi to the ground, and watched them scamper around his feet before straightening to pat Garroth’s back. “Come on, then. We have  _ got  _ to get you ready for your date tomorrow - so much to fix!”

“ _ Excuse _ me?”

  
“You heard me.” Laurance’s smile was cold. For a moment, he seemed distant, as if remembering something else. Perhaps he was.

“I’m sorry, a  _ date?  _ Wha… with… y… I- with…?” __

  
“With your lovely lady friend from Bright Port? What did you  _ think  _ I meant?” 

“Oh.  _ Oh.  _ You little-” 

Garroth’s eyes flashed, stuttering over his own protests. Dante internally winced on his behalf. 

“You’re in no state for  _ romance,  _ freckles. We  _ have  _ to fix that! Look at your face! Your  _ hair!”  _

“You are  _ not  _ touching my hair.” 

“Don’t you want to make a lady swoon!?” 

“ _ No.  _ Go away.” 

“We have  _ got  _ to sort out your priorities,” Laurance chided, and as Garroth marched pointedly away, Laurance skipped after him, finding his feral glee in the art of pissing him off. Dante watched them leave. Aphmau was shaking her head in mock disappointment, but he knew she wasn’t upset, not really. 

“I’m going to go upstairs and see if Lucinda is ready for me,” she said, bobbing her head to Dante. “Coming?”

“That’s okay,” he said, as the rain battered them. Neither of them seemed to mind, although Aphmau squeezed water out of her curls absently. 

“Okay, Dante. Keep those two in check, won’t you?” She jerked her head in the direction of Garroth and Laurance. He could still hear them squabbling, any signs of their past serious arguments gone - this almost seemed…  _ friendly.  _ Tentatively playful, even. 

He managed a nod. Aphmau ran inside; his mind was already wandering away from the pair of guards. 

His fingers brushed the cold metal of his amulet, toying with the sleek cover, nails dipping into the engravings. His gaze burned. 

Looking around, he was sure that he was alone and undisturbed. He pulled out the amulet and sat in the grass, holding it in his hands, his sudden tears blurring with the rain that beat his face.

_ Stop that. _

He hadn’t thought about Gene’s execution in so long. When thoughts of his brother erupted into the daylight, it was always the happier memories. He refused to acknowledge anything else. But there were times where he  _ tried  _ to reach those joyful moments, but all he dug up was pain. The dark times, Gene’s outbursts, his execution… and what came after… they would intrude into what should have been  _ good.  _

There had to be good. Somewhere. 

Or was it all a lie?

He bowed his head. 

“Don’t cry.  _ Don’t cry.”  _

_ Don’t  _ **_fucking_ ** _ cry. _

But he couldn’t quiet his shaking chest, heaving with silent, gasping sobs. The thunder covered his begging. “Stop. Stop, please.”

“Give me a sign.”

“If you’re still with me.”

“You have to still be with me.”

_ Would things be better if he was? _

“Please.”

“ _ Please.”  _

The wind howled on, leaving a cruel silence in its wake. An emptiness. 

The relentless rain never eased as he sat, trying to hush himself, stifling his noises of distress into one hand. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep his fingers from his hair, twining into damp blue strands. 

_ Shut up, shut up… _

It was the wrong thing to do, to bite back his pain. To stifle his tears. But when had he ever been  _ good  _ in the first place? When had Dante ever done the right thing? 

He whispered helplessly into the amulet, seeking solace in the emptiness curled around him. 

Begging for something, anything. 

But the rain was infinite, and the silence just went on, and on.


	33. episode thirty three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for my absence, and for such a short chapter, I've had some trouble focusing on fic work recently!!! Song for today is Lemon Boy by Cavetown, hope you are all well and having a good day <3

“I don’t need to impress Azura, thank you very much.” Garroth didn’t know why he was still walking, cheeks wet with the rain, hair damp. He couldn’t tell why he was still entertaining useless banter. He had a clear motive and needed to  _ focus.  _

But Laurance’s stupid, pretty face continued to pull him away from his responsibilites, and he kept on falling into foolish traps that he knew better than to let himself be swayed by. He scowled. 

“Sure, you do.” 

“I do  _ not.”  _

“What’s not to like? She’s pretty enough. Isn’t it  _ romantic,  _ falling for the childhood friend you once rejected!?” 

“No.” 

“That’s called denial, my friend.” 

Garroth gritted his teeth, ignoring the ‘friend’ bait that Laurance was clearly laying out, trying to lure him away from his tangent.

“There’s no romance involved,” he said, glaring. “It’s not my fault she liked me once. I doubt it means that much to her now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,  _ darling.”  _

Garroth eyed him. His dark eyes were gleaming with the thrill of a fight, brown skin glistening with rain. His dark hair was getting long and curly - a detail he hadn’t realised he noticed. “I doubt you know a single thing about love, or romance, or anything. Although I imagine you’re familiar with the concept of rejection.” 

“I speak from a place of experience - and sympathy for poor, darling Azura. She wouldn’t just forget about her sad old crush on you - although why anyone would be attracted to you, I couldn’t imagine.” 

“She… wouldn’t? Shouldn’t it be irrelevant by now?” 

“Have you ever even  _ had  _ a crush? You sound so stupid right now.” 

“Sure, but-” 

“You are so  _ clueless.”  _

“A place of experience?” Garroth cut in hastily, desperate to take control of the situation. He was feeling suddenly, and overwhelmingly, out of his body. He didn’t want to talk about  _ him,  _ his lack of… what, love? Not everyone needed it, that’s what he told himself. He was devoted to his Lady and his work, and that was enough for him. Laurance was, clearly, a lover, something that Garroth would never be. That was the line between them, he supposed, one that he was hesitant to cross. “That’s just  _ sad _ .” 

“Not my fault some people can’t appreciate this face.” Laurance inclined his chin, daringly. 

“I don’t blame them,” he muttered. 

“And  _ you  _ won’t get appreciated with a face like that.” 

“Rude,” he muttered. He didn’t want to care what Laurance thought of him, but he still flushed slightly, wishing he could erase every feature he had ever been insecure about. “I don’t want Azura to admire me, anyway.” 

Laurance softened slightly. “Your love life is utterly tragic.”

“So is yours,” Garroth countered easily, crossing his arms. “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten that you haven’t even had your first kiss.” 

“Why do you  _ remember  _ that? That’s just weird.” 

“But true.” Garroth bit the inside of his cheek, debating on whether to continue. Did he really, truly care about anything that had happened before he met Laurance? Did it mean that much to him? Just that morning, their conversation had  _ almost  _ been serious. Laurance had stormed away, but hours later, he could taunt him so easily, as if the ordeal had never happened. 

Everything about him was so confusing. Telling him to stay away. 

But Garroth couldn’t stop coming back for more. 

“So who rejected you so badly that you never got over it?”

“It’s not about  _ getting over it.  _ It’s just that you don’t forget it. Not that you’d know, you heartbreaker.” 

Garroth scowled. “Fine. I won’t ask, next time-” 

“No, it’s not- it’s-”    
  


Laurance’s eyes flashed with indecision, obviously toying with the idea of sharing. Too many times, they had gotten too comfortable with each other. Sharing their stories far too easily, as if there  _ wasn’t  _ that line between them. Garroth had to remind himself of that every so often. But with reluctantly curious blue eyes, he watched Laurance step over it and lift his chin.

“I’m not exactly your definition of a lovesick fool.”

“So a girl broke your heart,” Garroth mused. “And you just… let that become your only personality trait for arguments like this.” 

“Not a girl.” 

A shaky silence fell between them, and Garroth was startled enough to shut up and purse his lips.  _ Shit.  _

They were nose to nose. 

He hadn’t realised he had leaned so close and shrank away, cursing himself. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t realise- you- er-” 

“Wipe that stupid expression off your face,” Laurance sneered, but his cheeks were pink. “Besides, it’s not - it wasn’t… that’s not  _ heartbreak. _ I was only a kid. I didn’t even know what a crush  _ meant _ .” 

“So were Azura and I,” he protested. “You don’t have to pretend like it’s not a big thing if it… is…” 

Even if he would never understand what Azura had seen in him, and how things could still be so awkward between them, he was still sensible enough not to undermine a confession like that. He couldn’t identify the sudden twisting in his stomach, the churning in his gut. His heart thudding out of his chest. Was that panic? No, he refused. 

_ You look like an idiot,  _ he thought crossly to himself, and clamped his mouth shut. 

“So you’re - are you -” 

  
  


“Gay, yes, I believe that’s what it’s called,” he said dryly, but the joke didn’t seem to hit. He was acting nonchalant, but Garroth could see that flicker of terror burning within him. As if he was merely trying to brush the moment away - as if he, too, was struck by that sudden hesitation, that fear. 

The feeling was mutual, then. 

Was that good? Bad? 

He couldn’t tell. 

“This boy, he… didn’t like you?” 

“Nah.” He waved Garroth off. “Builds character, y’know.” 

“He was probably an idiot, anyway.” 

Laurance seemed startled, and Garroth wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. Too bold of him. 

But he merely shrugged. “Just like you?”

“Something like that, yeah.” And despite himself, he grinned, and the motion didn’t feel forced, as if appeasing Aphmau. He smiled for himself. How strange. 

For something that was so illegal according to his own moral code, it didn’t seem so difficult. Or  _ bad.  _ He half-liked the awkward, stuttered smile that Laurance returned, unsure at first, as if debating if he was serious, then more confident. 

“You’re being… slightly less of a dick than usual,” Laurance said suddenly, realising his own mistake. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered. Trust Laurance to ruin a moment. “Now that I’ve got narrowed options, I’m trying to figure out exactly what your type is.” 

“Good luck with that.”

“Give me a clue.”

“What, so you can never shut up about it again? I think not. Oh, and Aphmau knows, so don’t even  _ think  _ about asking; she won’t tell you.”

He scowled. “That’s  _ cruel _ . I’m only curious.” 

“You’re a  _ snoop,  _ that’s what you are. Only looking for an excuse to bully me.”

_ True.  _

“Be that as it may, it might be useful information...” 

“Such information should  _ not  _ be in your hands. Who knows what you’ll do with it.” 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he protested hotly. 

“I could give you a  _ list  _ of awful, cruel things you can do with what my  _ type  _ is.” 

“Would you do the same as me if you were in my shoes?”

“Oh, no doubt about it. But, luckily for you, I don’t care about  _ your  _ type. Boring-ass-” 

_ “Excuse you.”  _

“Well you  _ did  _ reject Azura in your youth, so there’s hope for you yet.” He shoved Garroth’s arm. When Garroth winced - without even meaning to - he grinned. “Oooh, I forgot about that! Let’s see the scar.”

Despite himself, he seemed to be in a giddy mood. 

“Are you asking me to strip?” 

“Don’t be stupid.” 

He bounced on his toes, peering over his shoulder as Garroth pried up his sleeve and examined his own arm. There was a considerable hole in the side of his arm, and the white dip was still circled by bright red skin. Laurance whistled. 

“Impressive. Turned out quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

“I can blame too many of my bloody scars on you.”

“You should thank me for that.”

“Or never let you come with me anywhere, ever again.”

“Or that, too, yeah.” Another strained burst of laughter. 

Garroth was silent for a moment. “How did we get  _ here?”  _

“Huh?”

It took him too long to realise he said that out loud and tried to keep a straight face. “You go from bullying me for… rejecting Azura? To…”  _ Whatever this is.  _ “To you bullying me for the scars you caused. Pick a tangent and stick to it.” 

“I don’t think bullying is the right word. I’m just judging you.” He stretched lazily. “The eternal struggle is picking how to insult you, there’s just so many things… you’re so easy to make fun of.” 

“I don’t exist for your amusement, you know.” 

“It’s just an added bonus.” 

“Glad I’m useful,  _ somehow.”  _

And beneath his irritation, his rolling eyes and sneers, he found that he  _ was  _ glad for it. He didn’t know what that made him, but an utter fool seemed like the right place to start. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“It’s love.” 

Lucinda was pressed against the wall, examining her fingernails, eyes reluctant to even look her father in the eye - he was curled on the mattress, looking ashamed. Aphmau had only heard his clipped apology and her curt answer and had left. It wasn’t her place to stay, even if Lucinda wanted her there, but she had left behind an awkward, cold air in the room, and it hadn’t changed while she had been outside with her Guards. 

“That’s foolish…” Garroth was already protesting. His cheeks were red - he had marched away from whatever conversation he had been having with Laurance yesterday with hair askew and eyes conflicted. He still seemed ruffled, even days later. Whatever they had shared must have shaken him - enough to be stupidly nervous when Azura arrived on horseback. “Love can’t counter magick.”

Laurance and Dante exchanged amused looks, and Aphmau had the sense that they were in on some kind of joke that she was  _ not.  _

“Love isn’t  _ foolish,”  _ Laurance said instantly. “It’s a  _ very  _ powerful thing.”

“Don’t joke around,” Garroth countered. “This isn’t funny.” 

Dante, just for a moment, seemed conflicted. His gaze was tired, as if he wasn’t really taking in anything in the room. She’d talk to him later, she thought, watching him closely. 

If Azura noticed any of their weird behaviour, she didn’t comment on it.

“I felt that thread of… power... and I used it to claw my way out of the slumber,” Luke said. “I don’t know how I did it.” 

“You weren’t  _ aware  _ when you were asleep, were you?”

“Not of reality. But I dreamed.”

Laurance’s eyes flickered. “Like… Hallucinations? You couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake?”

Garroth lifted his head in surprise.

“Kind of… It was like looking through a window into my past, but things were wrong. Different.”

Laurance nodded along expertly, looking smug.

“It was his love for me that brought him back,” Lucinda grunted, clearly displeased.

“See? I’m not stupid. It’s a real thing! I…” He hesitated, then kept talking. “That’s what kept me alive - well, half-alive. My love for Aphmau.”

She jumped in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes. I can’t speak for the love between a Guard and Lord” - with a quick glance at Garroth - “but platonic love is just as strong as romantic.” 

She had already known that memories of her had carried him through the Nether, but she hadn’t considered how much she meant to him. She had the impression her cheeks were red. “Ah.” 

Azura blinked anxiously down at Burt. “Do you think… if I…” 

“It’s only a theory,” Laurance cut in quickly, almost reluctant. “Do you love Lord Burt?”

“Of course - I am his guard.”

“Azura,” Garroth said, so quietly that Aphmau barely heard him. “Do you love Burt the way you once loved me?” 

The room froze. Even Laurance glanced at Garroth in uncertainty, his humour forgotten. Azura straightened. 

“No.”

Garroth didn’t seem disappointed in the slightest. He was watching Laurance, studying him. With every word, he waited for his reaction, as if dependent on how they revolved around each other. Aphmau was surprised by how much they fed off each other’s anger, fear, excitement. Could she even dare to say that they weren’t at risk of killing each other anymore? Were they even getting along? It was so hard to tell.

She didn’t dare to hope. 

She’d ask Dante, she decided, but he was most likely more familiar with their rivalry than she was at this point. She felt guilty for not paying as much attention to them lately. 

“As a friend?” Aphmau pushed. 

“In the way a Guard is devoted to her Lord.” 

“I have a better idea than just guesswork,” Laurance said, straightening. “We know there’s a Shadow Knight in Pikoro - there had to be, to perform the ritual on Burt and Luke. We can find them, and find out how to undo it.” 

“In Pikoro?” Luke said, straightening with eyes narrowed. “How do you know?” 

“Shadow Knights can only be controlled by other Shadow Knights or themselves. I doubt anyone from O’Khasis would allow a Shadow Knight in their ranks that was unpredictable - uncontrollable. It doesn’t make sense. Someone has to be acting alone.” 

The Lord paled at the thought of a Nether warrior in his city, but nodded shakily. 

“I’ll be able to tell,” Laurance said darkly, looking as if he couldn’t imagine anything worse than hunting down his own kin of fire and darkness. Aphmau couldn’t blame him. “Lucinda, can I…?”

The woman was staring at Aphmau. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” 

_ I’ll make it up to you. I promise.  _ She couldn’t let Lucinda keep helping them like this, no matter how useful as an ally she was, it felt wrong to use her - even if she enjoyed it and liked their company. 

“Still have the lassos you used to rescue Burt and Luke?” Laurance said, nodding to her. 

“I do.”

“You’ll need them.”

“And what do you need from me?” Lucinda said, folding her arms. Her gaze hardened, looking at Laurance

“Aphmau needs to be disguised,” he replied, shrinking from her amber eyes. “She’ll carry me into Pikoro with the lasso, and I’ll find the Shadow Knight.”

“Disguised as what?” 

“An animal of some sort, I suppose? A bird?” 

“I’m your transportation?” Aphmau scoffed. 

“I’ll just force Garroth to do it instead if you don’t-” 

“I don’t think sending you and Garroth would be a good idea at all,” Dante said quietly. “You might destroy a building or something.” 

Garroth made a face, somewhere between being offended and being disappointed. 

Laurance shrugged. “Right. Sure.” 

“I’ll go,” Aphmau said. 

“I’ll protect you.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She lifted her chin. 

“Is an owl okay?” Lucinda cut in. “Owls are easy. Hence my familiar…” Bigglesworth ruffled his feathers from the corner. 

“I can be an owl.” 

“Come on, then,” Lucinda said, taking Aphmau by the hand and leading her away. “We have work to do.”


	34. episode thirty four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's been a while! <3 I've been super focused on other projects lately but I'm not going to give up on Loverman, it's a really special WIP to me and I really want to see it fulfilled with the ending I've always had in mind since I started writing it. So updates are now planned to be weekly, every Sunday, to give me time to work on art and my other fanfics too. Happy new year, and thanks for sticking with me! Hope you enjoy! :D 
> 
> Oh, and I didn't forget about the song! Today's song is Home by Phillip Phillips!

  
She was not herself. 

She was in another shell, another body.

When she had been turned into a wolf pup, it had been so unfamiliar, as if she was toying with a current of the world so out of her depth. It had been strange and wild and different, having large, bumbling paws, claws, teeth that could  _ destroy.  _ She had always been the healer and the protector, the guardian, the matron. It was as if that was all she’d ever amount to - not that she didn’t mind the work, as if it gave her a purpose. 

Being the hunter was strange. 

It was easier, she thought, to be a bird. As an owl, her small body carved a path across the dark sky, and she wasn’t bound by mortal threads and responsibilities. She was  _ free.  _ Her wings barely had to beat, silently drifting below the clouds. She was quiet, and held to barely any responsibility save for the fate of the lasso curled in her talons where the soul of her friend slumbered.

When she floated over Pikoro, the city was peaceful in the dusk, bathed in a gently wavering amber glow. The streets were almost empty, and even as a bird, she could smell faded spices and worn leather lingering over the merchant stalls, and sweet scents floating from the houses. They were merely  _ living,  _ not having any care for evil lurking outside their windows, not bearing an ounce of responsibility. They were artists, bakers, merchants, soldiers; she couldn’t imagine any of them being Shadow Knights, being servants to the Nether. She drifted over the rooftops, waiting for a sign or sensation from Laurance. 

Trapped in the lasso, she wouldn’t hear words from Laurance, and she didn’t want to risk releasing him before they were sure of the Shadow Knight’s identity. She could still feel a pull from him, a tug, a sense of direction - and he was determinedly silent as she passed over the houses. He could sense nothing from the people living innocently in their small little worlds underneath them, blissfully unaware of the corruption in their midst.

She banked towards the church, fluttering silently through an open window and perching on the rafters hanging over the pews, watching the priest walk underneath her. 

She sat, watching him with sharp, unforgiving eyes, waiting for the tug of alarm.

In a place of Irene, she was certain that even those who claimed to be holy, who claimed to have the interests of the world at heart, could be bad. 

Zane was living proof of that. She had seen the damage he had caused - to his brother, her friends, her people, all of them suffering under his hand. Under his ‘holiness’ that he dedicated to Irene; he didn’t deserve to have her name on his tongue. Most days, she felt helpless against him, thinking that if Garroth’s brother wanted something, he would take it. Steal it, through whatever means necessary, would seize whatever grasp on power he could find. She had seen it happen. He had tried to take Garroth away from her, had threatened her and Laurance, the innocent lives of her town - poor Alexis, even, trapped out of her body. 

She had to wonder: did everyone who touched such a power and responsibility inevitability change? Become hungry for more, greedy for beyond what they earned? Would she become a Lord without a single care of her people if it kept her safe and alive? Would she give up her power to keep her new family safe? 

The thought terrified her. 

Whatever the priest was, it wasn’t enough to warrant investigation; he kept walking as she rustled her wings over his head, and she felt nothing but a dozing, dormant force from the Shadow Knight she kept hidden away, so she took flight once again.

She fluttered silently to the tavern, reeking of smoke and alcohol, where she sat peering through a hole in the roof with her head bowed. Although she could feel Laurance’s thin disgust mirroring her own, there was nothing suggesting any more than the regular dose of crime in any large city, only what she had encountered during her brief interactions with Jeffory. 

_ Jeffory _ , she thought darkly, who she hadn’t seen since returning to Pikoro. Despite what he had almost done to her and what she had narrowly escaped, she still felt guilty for him and whatever fate had befallen him. She hoped he was okay - if anything happened to him, it would be her fault.

She found herself lifting her head, avian eyes scanning the darkening city for a flash of armour, a sign… anything…

She felt rather than heard the flash of annoyance from Laurance.  _ Focus.  _

Nipping her beak slightly in return - for she was certain she had every right to be concerned for the person whose life she could have ruined - she took flight, wings silently beating her across the sky over the heads of a group stumbling from the tavern, laughing giddily. One of them pointed up at her, whooping. She wondered how common owls were in the area, particularly pure white ones. They were likely too drunk to really question it, anyway, even if they had suspicions that her disguise wasn’t entirely working.

Besides, Lucinda was talented, and powerful, and she knew what she was doing. Aphmau didn’t dare to doubt her for a second. Just add her to the list of people she would owe a massive debt to, if she emerged from the experience safe and well. She had to, to take care of Phoenix Drop - her people needed her more than ever. 

The thread connecting her to Laurance’s soul in the lasso gave an angry tug, spurring her back to attention. He was growing impatient, and she couldn’t blame him. The evening was already smoldering, leaving night in its wake, and they didn’t have that long. Quietly, she swooped down and perched on the windowsill of the side of the Inn, the glass crooked open slightly, watching for movement on the other side. When she was certain that the room was empty, she slank through the gap. 

With a flash of light, Laurance stood, brushing ash from his clothes, massaging his back haughtily. “It’s here.”

“The Shadow Knight?” The words felt strange and slurred, and Laurance merely looked at her, head cocked. Oh -  _ right.  _ He couldn’t understand.

She lifted the lasso again in her talons, gesturing loosely for him to come near enough to trap him again, and he sighed through his nose, not amused in the slightest. 

She stretched her wings pointedly. 

“Fine, fine, don’t ruffle your feathers.” 

With a gentle glow, he was gone, and with the lasso gripped tightly in her claws once again, she fluttered outside to every window. With each new room, she waited for something, anything at all, but there was not even a glimpse of hope, not a flicker of alarm from her friend. As she came to the final pane of glass, she found eyes on her from across the room, a man sitting on his bed. He let out a slight gasp of alarm at her appearance -  _ shit -  _ and she burst from the windowsill awkwardly, wings pounding up, away as fast as she could. 

In the same heartbeat, in a flash of gold, Laurance shifted away from the lasso and hit the roof with a muffled groan and a hastily stifled yell of pain. Internally, Aphmau winced, swooping down to him as he tumbled down and shimmied down onto the ground, trying to muffle his pain through gritted teeth as he slipped inside the Inn. When he opened the door, Aphmau fluttered in behind him and onto his shoulder, tucking her wings to her sides nervously. He was holding his side awkwardly, and winced as her talons gripped his shirt tightly. She would have scolded him for his impatience, if she hadn’t heard him whisper, “it’s here.” 

She leaned forward slightly, and her mind flashed to the man in his room who had seen her as an owl lurking outside his window. Laurance had appeared immediately after seeing him.  _ We found you.  _

But Laurance turned on his heel, spinning towards the kitchens, despite the yell of alarm from the Innkeep - she would have apologised for disturbing him, or even chastise Laurance, but she had to remind herself that she was practically useless in this shape. She had powerful wings claws, animal senses, but her voice was something she had always taken for granted, her greatest asset, and where she wanted it so badly to weave an explanation in her human voice, she had nothing. 

She couldn’t do a damn thing as Laurance walked into the kitchens with his hands folded behind him, gait smooth, the Innkeep trailing him. 

Trailing him, because Laurance paused before Amethyst, his elderly, frazzled wife, and merely inclined his head. “It’s  _ you.”  _

_ Her?  _

This was the sweet woman who had gifted Aphmau new clothes from the kindness of her heart, the woman who had vented to her about business at the Inn, about the fate of Pikoro, her beloved home, her living. 

And yet she was… 

Aphmau wished she was human, if only to do  _ something  _ as the Innkeep darted to shield his wife, already shouting to defend her. 

“I won’t let you-” 

“We’re not here to hurt her.” Laurance held his palms to the couple, gaze almost…  _ shameful.  _ It was too easy for Aphmau to slip up and forget about what he had suffered in the Nether, and never truly recovered from. It was a constant presence to him. She winced internally, cursing herself. 

“She didn’t do a damn thing of what you think she did-” 

“I don’t-” 

“They made her do it - the Guards - they made her do it, or they’d tell everyone who she was. They  _ threatened  _ her- _ ”  _

“Sir,  _ keep your voice down,  _ for Irene’s sake, I’m a Shadow Knight too.” 

And he must have looked strange with an owl on his shoulder, Aphmau thought darkly to herself. She clicked her beak close to his ear reassuringly. 

“You… You can’t take her to the Nether. What do you want?” 

“I couldn’t take her even if I wanted to.” Amethyst peered fretfully over her husband’s shoulder at that. “But she fulfilled a ritual on two Lords, and she’s the only one who can wake them up.”

“No,” Amethyst said suddenly. “I can’t.” 

“You  _ can’t?  _ Why not? _ ” _

“I wasn’t alone when… when the rituals were being performed. The High Priest was with me, and he helped me. I can’t undo anything without him.” 

Aphmau was grateful she wasn’t human, because she was tempted to break something. It was always Zane - always that  _ High Priest  _ hounding her, infecting every good thing he happened to stumble across. Every slimmer of purity would eventually, inevitably, be destroyed. Her grip on Laurance’s shoulder tightened, and he stiffened slightly at the touch.

“I’m sorry to scare you like this.” 

“What do you want? What will you take in exchange for your silence about Amethyst? No one can know.  _ No one.”  _

“What  _ I  _ want?” 

“Name it, and I’ll do it.” 

She fluttered her feathers in warning, but Laurance merely bowed his head. “I want you to never stop loving her for all of your life and death.”

He flashed a sideways glance at her, communicating a silent respect to his Lord and friend. “Let’s go.” 

The night was cold and bitter as they stepped outside; the mere breeze made Aphmau want to launch herself into flight and race back to Lucinda’s house as fast as her wings could carry her, but she sensed that Laurance needed her more. 

So she remained on his shoulder, and as she offered the lasso to him meekly, he shook his head. “I’m fine.”

He began the long walk home, and she stayed perched on his shoulder, feathers fluffed against the wind. 

* * *

It was lucky that she didn’t take flight, because the spell wore off through their walk, and she tumbled to the ground before Laurance could catch her, grazing her dark skin on the gravel of the trail. Her friend bent down to help her up hastily. 

“Sorry, sorry-” 

“I’m okay.” She flicked pieces of dirt from her legs; he seemed reluctant to talk, even as she straightened. “You’re a bit of a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”

His laughter was dry. “Most days, I feel more pessimistic than anything.” Just another reminder of how she had neglected her friend of her attention, letting Lord duties drag her away from him.

“That was really nice, what you said to them. Letting her go.”

“Yes. I can be nice, contrary to popular belief.” 

“No, I  _ know  _ you’re nice - you’re lovely. It’s just… well, it was very sweet of you to do that.” Before he could reply, she continued hastily. “We should talk - just us. It’s been a while since either of us just got to… relax…” 

He puffed a breathy laugh. “You’re busy - it’s okay, really, I don’t mind.” 

“I’ve been a shitty friend as of late, and I have to make up for it somehow.” 

“I…” He seemed lost. “Busy,” he repeated, fumbling for an excuse. “You’re busy, I get it.” 

“The second we get back to Phoenix Drop, I’m dragging you on a detour to Meteli. To the beach.” 

Something in his eyes clouded at the idea of going back to his old home, that beach where they had shared younger memories. “I saw that, too,” he whispered. “The beach.” 

“Huh?” 

“In my dreams. In my nightmares - in the… the Nether. I saw the beach, and I… you…” 

“I was there?” 

“You were.” He kept walking, determinedly avoiding her gaze, eyes on the trail. “But not in a good way.” A shuddering breath. “Bad things happened in those dreams. So I don’t think I can go back to Meteli - not for a long time, yet.”

Noting her dismay, he hastily added, “but I’ll spend time with you anyplace else, Aph. Really, I swear. We can just talk… at the beach at Phoenix Drop. Although I can hardly stand the weather and it’s so damn  _ humid-”  _

“Laurance. Thank you.” 

His smile made everything worth it. All she wanted, really, was to see her friends safe and happy. That’s all she wanted from Irene, damn it, and if she died at Zane’s hands, at least she’d die knowing she was doing it for those she cared about, for those names carved into her heart like an infinite promise. She’d do anything for them. 

“And I missed you.”

“We were never apart, Aph, not really.”    
  


“Still…” 

It felt good to see the spark in his eyes. He was far more energetic, far louder and excitable lately, although she supposed that was also in part in insulting Garroth so regularly - it had spurred a joyful wickedness in him, taunting him the way he so regularly did. He found it to be an art, but the both of them seemed…

Happier? 

_ But how could that be?  _

Aphmau saw the peak of Lucinda’s house in the distance and sagged in silent relief.  _ Thank Irene for that.  _

“This journey,” Laurance announced, giving a small bounce seeing the witch’s house, “has been utterly useless. We know no more than we did going into Pikoro.”

“We know that Zane helped with the ritual. That’s something.”

“If I never hear that name on anyone’s tongue ever again, it’ll still be too soon - oh, shit, but Aph, someone has to tell Azura the bad news…” 

“Me,” she said. “As Lord, I’ll do it.” And she bowed her head under the weight of an invisible crown, watching Laurance sigh slightly. 

To Azura’s credit, she was a stoic woman, and even as Aphmau got on her knees to apologise from the bottom of her heart, to lament their inability to wake Azura’s Lord for now, she did not crack or crumble. She assured Aphmau that she’d do everything in her power to wake Burt from Bright Port.

“There has to be a way. I’ll try everything,” she swore. 

“And if you wake him up, send a letter.” 

“I will. Oh, and Aphmau…” She lifted her chin. “I can’t speak for Lord Burt, not yet. But consider Bright Port a temporary member of your little alliance, at least until he  _ does  _ wake.” 

Only temporary - something fragile and breakable, but it was a start all the same. 

“Your alliance,” Luke said, sitting up on the mattress suddenly, startling Lucinda, watching from close by. “What’s this thing called?” 

Small beginnings, Aphmau reflected, seemed to be her habit. She had become the Lord of Phoenix Drop when it was nothing but the discarded shards of its previous entanglements. She had built it from nothing with Garroth’s help. And now she would do the same with this alliance, for the future of the continent. Every flame of war, of hope, of love and everything in between, has to start with something. 

And end with something, too. 

“The Phoenix Alliance,” she said, and with her words, she felt the force of it burning itself into existence, adding it to the responsibilities traced over her heart and setting it aflame.


	35. episode thirty five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry it's been so long since the last update <3 chapters will be getting longer from this point onwards, it's 3am right now so no song today but I hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

Aphmau had been dreading the moment for days. Had been swallowing the looming fear that she’d have to face her own mistakes, would have to go and be a leader once again - it had been nice to have some kind of support and sturdy force by her side if even for a moment.

But farewells were in order. 

She supposed, looking back on it, that Lucinda was the kind of person she wouldn’t expect to make friends with. Where Aphmau was filled with a fiery compassion and short spouts of anger, Lucinda always seemed to be coiling with smoldering coals no matter the hour, always seemed restless for one reason or another. Where Aphmau let her insecurities smother her, Lucinda seemed to bathe in the glow of every imperfection; although Aphmau privately thought she didn’t even _have_ any of those. She seemed to her like someone untouchable, and far from the kind of girl she’d have the confidence to approach if they passed each other on the streets. 

Fate was unexpected that way. In fact, none of Aphmau’s friendships seemed to make sense at the time. She had been drawn to Garroth in part due to the mystery of him, the puzzle - his helm, his guardedness, his unwillingness to allow her close at first. She had been curious about him from the second he brought her into Phoenix Drop, just another helpless amnesiac - to him, at least. Laurance had been rather the opposite; he had been all talk, all a lazy swagger and roguish charm that made her at ease. It didn’t make sense at the time, but there was something _comforting_ about him. Perhaps it was that feeling again, that thread, tugging at her again, pulling her to him, but Laurance had first nipped at her amusement, then her heart. Dante, she thought, was different. There had been a mutual understanding between them at first, as of both of them unwilling to come close. She had been grateful to him for staying with Donna, but beyond that she felt… nothing. Just another traveller in baggy clothes and unkempt hair. Not someone to trust.

It didn’t stay that way for long. It helped, though, that Dante was so reserved. She had appreciated the distance, so soon after Kiki’s troubles came like a storm, overturning her temper. Perhaps, if he had instantly trusted her, they wouldn’t have become friends.

She felt that she needed a piece of all of them, and had come to appreciate each presence lingering by her side. As odd as each of them were. 

Lucinda was no different. 

She was like Dante, even if she scared the shit out of Dante and he denied it to his last breath, in which they hadn’t instantly connected. There wasn’t that spark of interest at first - although she had been curious about the dark-skinned beauty, there was also a sense of indignation, too. Jealousy, but she would never tell Lucinda that. It took time for them to grow used to each other - but when they did, and that trust locked into place, they were suddenly joined at the hip. She had a nasty habit of getting attached to breakable, temporary things far too easily, and Lucinda was one of them. She wasn’t the infinite sort of presence; the fleeting sort of woman, moving from one place to the next without a care. Aphmau knew why she couldn’t expect her to stick around - it wouldn’t be fair, what with all of the dark rumours of war and chaos brewing in the group. Who’d want to stay for that?

It was still difficult, though. To pretend as if Lucinda had never been more than a passing ally. She was better than that - deserved better. 

She found Lucinda upstairs, with her father - if she was even willing to call him that - and she watched as the woman sat up, the sun browning her pale patches of skin, going from lounging lazily to poised and alert in a heartbeat. Aphmau had compared Lucinda to a cat before, and the way she moved was certainly feline.

She had also gotten far too talented at reading Aphmau’s expressions, and thus she found a reason to hastily excuse herself and lead Aphmau up - up beyond what she thought was capable of her rickety tower. Lucinda shoved open a trapdoor with her shoulder, smiling expertly to herself as she crawled up and onto the roof, sunning herself on the red tiles and beckoning Aphmau to join her. 

Aphmau herself couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She was very deliberately not looking down, knuckles white as her hands squeezed the roof. “Lucinda. I - I don’t do well with heights.”

The witch looked her up and down. “Oh. Of course you don’t. Down we go, then, I just didn’t think you wanted an audience-”

“No! No.” She fought to keep the panic out of her tone. “No, I… I’m fine.” By such a point, she had managed to crawl closer to Lucinda, and was far enough away from the ladder for it to be _too far._ She wondered how she’d get back as she warily curled next to Lucinda, tucking her knees to her chest and trying to stay as far away from the edge as possible. 

“And don’t you dare call me delicate,” Aphmau puffed, keeping her eyes firmly away from any ledges.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” A beat for her to study Aphmau, she herself clearly undeterred. “You can try-”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. Got to face it at least once, right?” She groaned, tentatively lowering herself onto her back and praying the roof wouldn’t give way. “It’s such a boring fear, too. Malachi said it themselves.”

“I think you yourself are quite extraordinary,” Lucinda said, without a trace of lightheartedness. Her amber eyes were suddenly rather calculating, as if deciphering what, exactly, Aphmau _was._ Did she suspect that something else was crawling under her skin? Did she see something reflected in her that Aphmau couldn’t seem to look at herself? “And besides, everyone needs something to fear.”

“Then what do you fear?” She had convinced herself that Lucinda felt nothing of the sort; she generally seemed to feel sure of herself.

Lucinda’s eyes were suddenly wistful. “I suppose I’m afraid of being no-one at all. Not a very tangible thing, though, is it? And snakes, too. I hate snakes. Bigglesworth has to catch any snakes I need for my potions because I won’t touch them.”

“Oh,” Aphmau managed, unsure of how to respond. They seemed like very different things, and she thought that Lucinda had only continued to stop Aphmau from asking invasive questions she’d regret.

“You needed me for a reason, right?” Lucinda cocked her head. “Or do you just want to see me?”

She looked up, somewhat hopeful at that, but resigned, and they both knew what Aphmau was mustering up the courage to do. She was already struggling to keep her composure at the lopsidedness of the roof, the rickety tiles, the unsteadiness of it all.

“Me and my group are leaving today.” 

“I figured.” Lucinda had clearly already prepared herself for this. “So this is a goodbye, is that it?” 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t want to leave. I mean, I want to go home and see my son, of course, and everyone misses Phoenix Drop so badly, but…” 

She had grown to admire Lucinda’s twisted tower and Lucinda herself, but she didn’t know how to put it into words. It had become a safe haven amongst wolves and High Priests alike, and leaving it behind meant going into the wild once again - the cold was thawing, leaving only the scattered remains of a gentle frost in its wake, but it wasn’t yet warm enough for her to feel content. She wouldn’t relax until she was back in Phoenix Drop and back with her son, but she didn’t want to leave Lucinda alone. 

“I’ll miss you,” Aphmau said. “If I could… I don’t know, change something - anything -” 

“My father needs me for the first time in his life,” Lucinda said curtly, rolling her eyes in regard to Lord Luke. “It’s the least I can do for him.”

“I’m sorry to make you stay, though -” 

“It’s really okay,” Lucinda said, laughing lightly. “My whole life is here, in this house, after all. It’d be a tad of a hassle to drag myself and everything I love all the way to Phoenix Drop.” 

“The offer still stands.” 

“Too much work,” Lucinda aaid, stretching lazily, but Aphmau could have sworn that she was blushing slightly under the sun. 

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. 

“But I’ll miss your company,” Lucinda added quickly, sitting up. “Perhaps I could do without your guards, but where you go, they follow, I suppose.”

“Dante is sort of scared of you,” Aphmau countered, grinning. “I think he’d appreciate the distance.” 

“He’ll be happy to be going home then.” 

Aphmau wondered with a dizzy feeling if Dante would really be happy with her in Phoenix Drop. She still didn’t know anything about him, not really - who could tell if he’d ever see Phoenix Drop as his home? His past might still chain him, whatever it might be.

She doubted that Lucinda would find it easy to settle, either, so perhaps it was for the best that the witch was staying behind. A valuable ally and a far more precious friend - just another thing Aphmau would have to leave behind. 

“How’s Lord Luke?” she asked absently, searching for a way to steer them away from their contemplative silence. She wasn’t willing to call the man Lucinda’s father just yet, not until she was sure of what, exactly, had happened between them. It wasn’t her place to pry. 

“Eh? Oh, he’ll live, the miserable bastard. It’s not so bad, having him around, even though it’s like having a piece of Pikoro tainting my house. Ugh.” 

“Don’t you miss Pikoro?”

“If you had grown up in Phoenix Drop and it had spat on you and betrayed you, you might understand my feelings.” 

“Oh.” _Fair enough,_ she thought. “So you’ll be okay when we go?” 

“No offense, flower, but I survived just fine before you arrived. You just… made things brighter.”

“I met you locked in a jail cell!” she retorted. “If not for me, you’d still be rotting with the wolves.”

“Okay, okay!” Lucinda waved her off. “I won’t deny, you surprised me.”

Aphmau liked that - that she was more than what meets the eye. 

“I hope I’m memorable enough for you to not forget about me so quickly.” 

“Oh, trust me, you are.” There was that sharp gaze again, and Aphmau had the sense that Lucinda knew more about her than she was letting on. Knew about the lick of power that seemed to slumber under her skin. She shuddered slightly, the rooftop swaying slightly under her feet. She was growing restless, being up there for so long, and Lucinda’s sturdy presence was, for once doing nothing to calm her nerves. 

She dared to glance down, watching the progress of her guards down below packing up camp, preparing to leave. Laurance was pointedly packing his own things, not trusting Garroth after their last fiasco - and to her surprise, it was Garroth who was talking animatedly, talking about the crabs that he and Laurance had faced. Dante was quietly nodding along, hanging onto every word as the youngest in the guard group of three, although it was easy to forget that sometimes.

Lucinda was watching, too. “I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Even if most of it was watching your friends get hurt and saving a man’s life.” 

“We kind of brought trouble to your doorstep. Sorry about that.” 

“It’s worth it,” Lucinda promised. 

Aphmau couldn’t tell if it was the height or the fear of saying goodbye - but _Irene,_ she thought, _I have to grow up._

“I can smell smoke,” Lucinda declared suddenly, pulling a face and wrapping the folds of her cloak over her nose and mouth. 

Aphmau blinked, and after a moment of searching, she could smell it too. Her eyes roved over the blue sky, and startled at patches of grey, smoke uncoiling itself over the pines and staining the azure and white. It took a few more seconds for her nose to really start stinging, for her breathing to become trapped and fluttering in her chest and she was crawling for the ladder back inside, Lucinda close behind her.

There was no doubt about it. 

_Fire._

Something was on fire, not close by - not close enough to be a threat to them if they were about to leave anyway, but the longer she stared, the more the sensation nagged at her that this was trouble brewing. 

On the top floor of the tower, Aphmau found her legs shaking slightly, gripping the walls, utterly thrilled to be back on solid ground. Logan was sitting up in bed, groaning and muttering - perfect timing, on his part; Lucinda looked out the window warily.

“That’s the direction of that foul wolf camp,” she said, and her implication was clear.

Aphmau could almost hear the words. 

_Let it burn._

“That’s a sign if I’ve ever seen one,” Lucinda added, resigned, turning away. She placed one hand on Aphmau’s shoulder and squeezed, lightly, eyes twinkling. “You should be gone before this fire becomes a problem.”

“I don’t want to get stuck here,” she agreed. 

Logan let out a rasp of approval. He was still weak, but he had improved rapidly under Lucinda’s care - though his tongue was as sharp as ever. “It’s about time.”

Privately, Aphmau had to agree that they had lingered for far too long. She nodded, hoping to get him downstairs without any attempt at false kindness, but Logan seized her elbow and dragged her back. He dipped his head, then bowed, sincere and deep, leaving her startled.

“Thank you - I - _thank you._ I owe you a debt, Lady Aphmau.” 

“It was nothing -” 

“It was everything. You saved my life from the wolves, from… yes, it seems I owe you.” He allowed himself a mocking smirk. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“ _Ha-ha_ , very funny. And here I was thinking we were best buds!” 

“We got off on the wrong foot,” Logan allowed. “But you saved my life, and took care of my Donna. My petty grudge… it doesn’t mean a thing compared to that. I underestimated you.” 

Aphmau swallowed, then grinned. “That you did. If that’s your way of trying to apologise, I gladly accept.” 

Dante appeared in the doorway, panting slightly. “We can smell-” 

“Smoke, I know. There’s a fire towards the wolf camp.” 

“Eastern?” 

“Eastern.” 

“We’re ready to go, if… if you are,” Dante said, looking at them all warily. 

“Okay-”

“I have a gift for you,” Lucinda blurted, as Aphmau jumped. “It’s really not much, I swear, it’s just… I know you’re short of lassos, and I’m rarely short of magick, so…” 

She reached into her drawers and pulled out several lassos, cradling them in her arms, ginger hair spilling over her shoulders somewhat sheepishly. They were glowing, a soft gentle hue the only tell that they were anything but regular lassos. Aphmau gratefully took them in her arms, struggling not to drop any. “Thank you. _Thank you.”_

“Oi, let me carry them. I’ll be in one soon enough.” She let Logan take the pile. 

“Do you feel well enough to go?” 

“Nothing puts a spring in my step like the thought of seeing Donna.”

She was almost reluctant to give them up, because when they went downstairs, she had no real excuse to be so awkward as she hugged Lucinda, feeling suddenly helpless. She’d always been able to take care of herself, she reminded herself - she was vulnerable through her position and duty as Lord, but beyond that she wasn’t exactly helpless. She’d do just fine without Lucinda’s cool, seemingly poised presence… _right?_

They were gathered on the grass, Garroth casting nervous glances towards the billows of smoke. She wondered if it was reason for alarm, or if her guard was merely paranoid. Although she noted that Garroth was pale, running anxious fingers through his hair, pacing slightly; even when Laurance snapped at him he didn’t rise to the bait. 

“It’s okay, sir,” Dante said, still not brave enough to be calling Garroth by his first name. “After so many werewolves, O’Khasis is practically nothing.” 

_Oh_ , she thought dully, guilt seizing her. _O’Khasis._

It was glaringly obvious that she had forced herself to forget - if only to allow herself some peace imagining that no one else would be taken from her. Garroth, clearly, hadn’t forgotten. He had promised Laurance to be responsible - _‘for once’,_ according to Laurance himself - and to try and stop war by himself. As a son of O’Khasis, a Prince of sorts, perhaps he had a chance.

A chance for his pleas to be tolerated. 

A chance to be turned away.

A chance to die. 

And even if Garroth somehow got his hands on that crown, that throne, that title, he’d be a Hell of a better leader than his father. That counted for something, right?

But this was Garroth she was talking about, and unlike Lucinda, she couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him. It was intangible. Save for Zenix, Garroth was the first person she had seen of Phoenix Drop, the first piece of her home. The friend who had given her a cloak, shelter, and eventually Lordship - perhaps that was why she refused to even acknowledge the thought of separating. 

_But if it’s what he wants..._

Lucinda noticed her shift in unease, and squeezed her gently. “Don’t fret so much, flower,” she said, with a private wink. “I’m sure things will work the way you need them too.” 

“Thank you, Lucinda, really. For everything.” 

“It’s been my pleasure. But I doubt this is the last you’ll see of me - you couldn’t resist me for that long.” 

Sometimes she thought Lucinda knew too much for her own good. She determinedly ignored her hot cheeks, turned away from the eyes burning into her back as she tied back her thick hair, putting Logan into a lasso and tucking the rest into the bag she hauled over her shoulder. As she looked at her travelling party - Malachi, looking uncharacteristically under the weather, Garroth, barely able to meet her eyes, Laurance staying quiet for once and Dante, already on horseback - she felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding. 

She opted to share the saddle with Dante, seeing as Laurance already had Malachi and she had no way of predicting Garroth’s skills on horseback in his current dilemma, but the others didn’t seem to mind. As she gripped his waist awkwardly, desperate not to fall off again, she had the sensation he was trying not to mention their last adventure.

“The fire is close to our path… well, sort of,” Dante offered instead. “Garroth can come that far, at least.” It wasn’t much, but he was trying, and from the way Garroth’s shoulders sagged, he was grateful for any spare time he could snatch. 

Time, Aphmau thought darkly, was cruel that way.

None of them had expected talk of war and death to creep up on them so quickly. It just did; and who could they blame? Irene? Themselves? 

Aphmau felt Lucinda watching her, even as she gripped Dante tightly, even as they began to move. She only dared to glance over her shoulder once, and found Lucinda leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. If she was sorry to see them go, she didn’t show it - although perhaps that was for Aphmau’s benefit. Perhaps she was trying, as she always did, to keep a shred of composure. 

She let her gaze linger for too long. 

Turned away. 

Dante wasn’t looking at her, but she saw his head turn only slightly. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” she managed. “I’m fine.”

* * *

He steered them towards the fire in the distance, and to her immense relief, no one seemed to be in the mood for talking. Even Laurance and Malachi, usually twittering at the head of the group, were strangely solemn. Aphmau wondered, privately, if it had anything to do with Garroth leaving. Probably not, she guessed - these days, they barely acknowledged each other save to snap, but still, what else could be hanging over his head? 

Plenty of things, she reasoned. She guessed Laurance wouldn’t appreciate her prying when it came to Garroth. They were evasive about such a thing. 

“Dante?” 

“Hm?” 

She was careful to keep her voice hushed as she leaned forward slightly. He seemed to sense her eagerness and tilted his head back to hear better.

“Do you think Laurance and Garroth are acting… strange?” 

He visibly hesitated, as if unsure of where to begin. “So you’re not _entirely_ clueless. You’ve seen how they look at each other, too.” 

“Wh- no, why, how do they _look at each other_ -”

  
“Nothing.” He was speaking too quickly. “No, I mean, nothing. What are _you_ talking about?” 

“I’m talking about the fact that Laurance is quiet and Garroth is… well, he’s just brooding, but y’know. What are you-” 

Dante muttered a curse to himself. “I take it all back. You _are_ clueless.” 

“No? No. No, I am _not.”_ She hadn’t exactly been focused on them over the past weeks.

“You don’t think it’s odd? How they stare at each other?” he prompted. 

She motioned for him to keep his voice low, then replied curtly, “I don’t see reason for concern over staring. What, you don’t think they’re plotting to kill each other, do you?” 

“ _Clueless,”_ he said again, and she spluttered.

Under his breath, Dante sighed. “Laurance wouldn’t dare to admit anything of the sort. But don’t you think he’s so quiet today because he knows Garroth might have to leave?”

“That doesn’t… doesn’t mean anything…” She drifted off, eyes widening slightly. _Oh._

“See?” 

As she looked, Laurance was sneaking sideways glances at Garroth - nothing _fond,_ of course, she wouldn’t expect anything of the sort. But more… curious. And bittersweet, too. She was startled, and shied her gaze away.

“You don’t think he’d _miss_ Garroth? I mean, they _have_ been travelling together.” 

Dante snorted. “Maybe. Maybe he just wants someone around to keep him focused.” 

“But can’t _you-”_

“No. I think they’ve got their relationship figured out by now.” 

If _they_ did, Aphmau certainly didn’t, and she scowled. 

“Well, _maybe-_ ”

“Shit.” It was Laurance who spluttered from ahead of them, and Dante was instantly alert, navigating his horse to come to rest alongside the pair of guards. 

Garroth was staring, wide eyed, out over the clearing of pine trees, where the Eastern wolf tribe had been utterly destroyed. Fire had asserted itself in the empty space, nestled comfortably in the wreckage and rubble of the huts and houses and billowing thick tongues of smoke, any tunnels caved in with rockfall. The air was grey, and almost instantly Aphmau was fumbling for something to cover her nose and mouth with, remembering what Lucinda had done earlier on the roof - 

_Ugh._ Thinking of Lucinda wasn’t a safe idea. 

Laurance swore, again, then paused to cough into his elbow. None of them drew their weapons. There was no need, and what could they do, anyway? 

They were hours too late if they had even wanted to do anything. 

Aphmau stared out, helpless, hands slacked by her sides in horror. Because littered in the fire and the smoke and the dust were the dozens of corpses of _wolves_.


End file.
